


The Stars Told Me So

by darkinterval



Series: The Stars Told Me So [1]
Category: Star Ocean: Till the End of Time
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Elicoor II lore, Epic, F/M, Fayt has a humanoid fetish, Humanoids, Love Triangles, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Rare Pairings, Retelling of Star Ocean: Till the End of Time, Roger centered, Sexual Content, Underage Relationship(s), Underage Sex, Violence, War, Yaoi, took this plot and ran with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:52:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 150,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3811210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkinterval/pseuds/darkinterval
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. An alternate take of the game centered around Fayt and Roger. What if the Sanmite Republic got pulled into Airyglyph and Aquaria’s war? What if there was more to Elicoor II’s lore than we were initially led to believe? The chessboard and its pieces have been set. Sacrifices will be made and alliances will crumble. Can a young Menodix boy and a teenager from Earth put an end to centuries of strife, and unite the three nations as one great Aquor?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time to Grow Up

**Author's Note:**

> A dark take of the game focusing on the events in Elicoor II, the three main Elicoorians, as well as Fayt and Roger's relationship. I will be delving deeper into the politics of Elicoor II with added original elements on my part, especially regarding the inclusion of the humanoids from the Sanmite Republic. I'll be taking a drastic spin on the war situation, as well as twisting familiar scenes in the existing game. There is also an alternate take on the weapon debacle and the political positions of the three different nations.
> 
> I will be exploring the Fayt/Roger/Albel love triangle heavily in this story, mainly because I enjoy niche pairings and I've always wanted to delve deeper into the Fayt/Roger pairing. 
> 
> Certain characters will be given the limelight in terms of background story, Albel being one such example. What really fascinates me about this game is that they leave background stories and personalities very open to interpretation and I do enjoy adding a personal flavor to such things.
> 
> Many things will look familiar to you, but even more things will look very unfamiliar to you. This is an ambitious project on my part and I hope to be able to see this through until the end. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated.

Our world has been ripped, torn apart by war: a meaningless massacre strewn throughout the continent of Gaitt. We were plunged into the dark underbellies of hardship, engulfing the souls and hearts of the guilty and innocent alike. For war you see, doesn't really give the souls of the innocent much choice. Many said that this violent struggle could have been avoided if one party agreed to a treaty of peace and mutual concessions; many had argued that an outbreak of war was unavoidable between the continent's two strongest powers. However, opinions mattered not in this cruel conflict, in this raging pandemonium. People had to fight, a nation had to be divided, alliances crumbled and loved ones were separated, lost to the uglies of senseless violence.

This land had fallen to Greed.

Its people submitted to Pride.

The City of Aquios was located in the continent's northern region: the pride and joy, the capital of the Kingdom Aquaria, home to Her Majesty Romeria Zim Emurelle and the church of Apris. This kingdom served as the home for the largest, most advanced runological lab in the sovereignty as well as the Great Temple of Apris - a sacred site for devout pilgrims. There lived peaceful folk, humble in worship and surrounded and protected by the land's beauty and prosperity.

As opposed to this prosperous and holy land, high up in the snowy mountains' fortress, stood the Royal City of Airyglyph, the centre of governance for the Kingdom of Airyglyph, and home to his majesty Arzei. In this cold and frigid climate, resided great legendary beings called Air Dragons, safely and warmly nestled within castle walls, breeding, breathing, waiting.

Airyglyph was ready for war.

Airyglyph was jealous and immensely frustrated by the unfairness of it all, driven on by an invisible entity called desperation. They wanted Aquaria lands, its prosperity, and its bountiful and ever-flowing wealth; because you see, its people were suffering. The rich became poor and the poor became even poorer; the satisfied grew hungry and the hungry starved. The cold was killing its populace gravely by huge numbers. So was the unfortunate situation which befell this wintry kingdom, escalating significantly in the preparation of war. Airyglyph demanded the holy lands, wanted, needed to feed its people, strived for total territorial dominance, but were strongly opposed by the Aquarians. Aquaria claimed that Apris had blessed their lands and that this blessing, this privilege was beholden to no one but the almighty's followers alone. Their defiance however, only proved to make the already strained situation worse. Both parties couldn't see eye to eye. Calm reasoning were reaching its limits, fierce disagreements turned to international disputes, and disputes evolved into physical and intentional acts of violence between the two sides, until the possible idea of truce could no longer be reached.

Airyglyph readied their units: The Dragon Brigade lead by Lord Vox, The Storm Brigade led by Count Woltar, and The Black Brigade led by the notorious Albel Nox; all of which were fearful and formidable opponents. In response to that, Aquaria dispatched their troops: The Aquaria Runological Unit led by Clair Lasband, The Aquaria Army, and The Secret Legion led by Nel Zelpher of the Crimson Blade.

After the events of the Aquor-Greeton war, it was truly unfortunate that we were left to the same fate. Gaitt's peace was threatened once more; yet another war was afoot. Our world had never been so bleak, torn by the actions, the hands of humanity. This was not the time for cowardice, not a single man retreats, least we suffer from the weight of an utter humiliating defeat. This was a turning point in our lives, this was where animosity took the place of gaiety and blitheness, this was when we had to put the past behind us and learn to be strong, and this was when the youthful displays of imaginative heroism had to come to an end. We were fighting a real battle of survival, not re-enacting the life and times of Robin Hood and his band of merry men. It was time to put those wooden swords away and pick a better poison.

Neville Zelpher, chief intelligence officer of Aquaria long past: a great leader, a formidable combatant, and also my father. Killed in action, he passed this position down to me and somehow, I'll be lying if I said that I didn't expect the possibility of a similar fate. I didn't want those children to be involved more than they already were, whether they knew it or not.

The gravel beneath my feet shifted, my footsteps fell to a reluctant drag. The Lost City of Surferio was fast approaching and it pained me, tugged at my heartstrings that this inevitable farewell had to take place. It was much too soon for my liking. Today would be our last adventure. Today would be their first passage into maturity and the reality of a world's cruel spite; today they will learn to be real men. Gone were the moments of heart-felt merriment; gone were the days when I participated in their fantasy realm of heroic antics, watched them grow.

"Nel! Nel! Hey guys! Nel's here!"

I distinctively heard they jubilant cry of one of my fellow "heroes", unable to help the smile, which graced my lips as he was soon followed by his gang of five. He scurried over as fast as his short legs could carry him, stumbling over once in a while and occasionally blinded by his helmet, which looked twice the size of his head. The young Menodix tripped and fell forward with an unceremonious "Oof!", only to rise quickly to grin up at me.

"Nel! Nel! Nel!"

By now, the young child was joined by his group of friends. I offered them all a warm smile, kneeling down to their eye level. They had all come and were as ready and eager as always: Lucien, Vellion, Dribe, Lezard, Melt, and Roger. I patted the youngest of the lot on the head.

"Hello, boys, ready for another exciting adventure?"

I hoped the little perk of my voice sounded convincing enough.

Choruses of "Yeah!" resounded from the little mischief-makers as they reached for their respective weapons. I watched them with a lingering twinge of regret, hating the prospect of war more and more. There was a heightening doubt on my part of revealing the whole truth to them. I couldn't bear to. I still wanted to continue my position as "Lieutenant Nel", a role these children had given me during our first "manly adventure". I still wanted to explore Lezard's potential in alchemy; wished to teach Melt so much more in the art of Runology; longed to continue coaching Lucien, Dribe and Vellion in the field of defence and combat; but more than anything else, I pleaded with Apris to extend my time here just a little longer to aid Roger in getting his "healing" abilities right.

Sure, the kid was exceptionally proficient with the axe and his little landmines, but for some strange reason, there seemed to be rumours going around that the civilians would flee by the mere mention of the word "healing", especially when it was associated with the name "Roger S. Huxley". I would coax him to keep trying, but he would always grumble something along the lines of "healing" being a "girl's job" and "swords and stuff" were "for men only". I always found his subsequent blush comical when I had to unsheathe my daggers to prove my point. As far as I was concerned, the art of healing required more skill and willpower than wielding the finest of weaponry. It honed focus, required absolute awareness, and strengthened the sight of the mind. Besides, not many humanoids possessed this natural inclination towards such an art. Neglecting such potential would be an immense waste. Granted, he wasn't good at it; but for an individual outside the fields of Runology to possess such an ability... who knew what else Roger could pick up?

I patted said boy's head fondly and smirked. I loved them all from the bottom of my heart, had always and will always do, but was there anything wrong in having a particular favorite?

"Aw, Nel! Quit it would ya?"

"You're a man, you can take it!"

They laughed as I smiled, but the more I smiled the more empty I felt on the inside, and I wondered if this was how a mother felt when she watches her children grow up and slowly begin to leave her. Or rather, she leaving them. And it dawned on me there and then: this would be the last time I would ever see these children again.

* * *

 

"So, what're we gonna do today, Lucien?" came the slow and ever hesitant drawl from the portly humanoid called Vellion, stubby fingers fidgeting every now and then in uncertainty.

The boy in question crossed his arms in his typical all-superior fashion, a wide and cocky grin crawling over his features. Lucien, the eldest of the group, turned to regard his eager companions save Roger, who merely pouted in displeasure. He huffed as Lucien began to give a long speech on the wonders of heroism; tales of valiant heroes who had slain countless of monsters and a vivid elaboration on today's agenda as well as what was to be accomplished. Soon, Lucien began distributing the roles of each member in their little party, leaving Roger, to the horror of all horrors, as nothing but a lookout.

Nel was always their second-in-command, that much had been established long ago due her astounding fighting grace and keen precision in executing attacks; however, something unsettled Roger, rattled him beyond compare. Ever since Lucien had turned the big 13, his attitude had never been more aggravating, never more intolerable, like a splinter lodged in one's foot. In addition, the others always went along so readily with his plans, including Melt and Lezard, the apparently "judgmental" and "mature" ones.

What did Lucien have that he didn't?

"And that's why we're gonna go ta the Passage from Parch to Plenty to see who's the bigger man - no offense ta ya, Nel!" Lucien concluded as the Aquarian shrugged.

"The Passage from Parch to Plenty, you say? My, that is interesting, not to mention formidable," said Melt, mostly to himself as he contemplated the fascinating proposal. Apparently he wasn't the only one who thought so.

"Heh, a test of endurance and courage you say?" Lezard hummed, pushing his large spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "Well then, I'm not stopping you. Of course, if you give me a few hours to prepare, I should have enough time to concoct a new batch of elixirs for the trip."

Melt nodded in agreement.

"Yes, yes, and this would also be an opportune moment for me to exercise my newly acquired skills –Nel smiled proudly- What say you, Dribe?"

"Are ya crazy?!" The little fox boy barked. "It's daaaaaaaaangerous!"

Apparently, Dribe's sudden exclamation seemed to have knocked some sense into Vellion's more often than not sluggish mind. The boy's eyes widened, echoing his friend's fear in sputters. Roger did nothing but approach Dribe to give him a good smack at the back of his head.

"Grr, you gutless wonder! Of course it's dangerous, all adventures' gotta be dangerous otherwise where would all the fun be?"

"But there are monsters in there and did I mention I haaaaaaaaate danger?!"

"You idiot! Don't go announcin' stuff like that! Where's your manly pride?!"

"That's enough you two," Nel intervened, folding her arms as she looked them down in mock sternness.

"Roger, don't go forcing Dribe into something he's not comfortable with. That isn't exactly very manly either, understand? We're all friends here, "aspiring heroes of the intangible future". I thought you would've understood everyone's feelings by now. You don't see Lucien criticizing other's short-comings, do you?"

In the background, said boy was grinning away, enjoying the sight of his rival being lectured by the older female. He shook his head. When would Roger ever learn that the key principle of being a real man was to simply grow up?

"No, m'am," Roger said softly, lowering his gaze to the ground. His ears drooped.

He never liked this kind of attention from Nel. Sure, he admired her greatly like everyone else, but he felt more than noticed that she had been constantly breathing down his neck these past few weeks, admonishing him for the slightest of mistakes and pushing him thoroughly on every mission. Oh no, she treated him kindly, as fondly as any mother, but she seemed to be particularly over-protective of him, constantly fussing over him more than the others and it wasn't because he was the youngest. Somehow it unnerved him. It was almost as if she didn't trust him, but could that really be the reason or was there something else concealed beneath the serenity of her smiles?

Nel smiled and placed her hands on her hips, turning to look at Lucien who had been rather quiet throughout this whole exchange. As she looked him over, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride overwhelm her. She took in his maturing, self-confident disposition - how had he grown!

Lucien turned to look at her, his characteristic smirk never once leaving his features.

"Lieutenant Nel, the report."

"Ah yes," she saluted, resisting a chuckle.

"Agent Melt and Agent Lezard have left in preparation for the trip, stocking up on items and concocting new spells. Agent Vellion and Agent Dribe will be joining us on this journey with confident hearts, and Agent Ro-"

"Come on, Nel! Ya know I can be as good a captain as Lucien, maybe even better!" Roger interjected as he tugged at the end of the red head's skirt.

"Lemme be captain for this mission, please? And why does Lucien always get ‘ta decide what we're gonna do, huh? I'm Sir Roger, this party's true and dashing leader! Don't I get a say in anythin’?"

"Bah, you, leader? Don't make me laugh!" Lucien mocked, leering. "I'm twice the man you'd ever be, plus I'm older!"

"What?! What does that haf'ta do with being a real man, Lucien?!"

"Er, I don't know, probably the part where one- grows up?!"

"Why ‘ya-!"

"Alright you two break it up!"

Nel immediately placed herself between the two childhood rivals, forcing them apart before anything serious could really occur. As the two struggled for freedom and dominance, the female sighed and shook her had tersely. Perhaps she had gotten more than she'd ever bargained for when associating with these vivacious juveniles.

"Honestly, I thought you had more self-control than that, Lucien. Anyway, we'll see you and the rest at the entrance of the Passage from Parch to Plenty…" She sighed and turned to face the younger boy.

"As for you Roger, may I speak with you alone? I have some imperative issues I'd like to discuss."

Wide amber met narrowed emerald and Roger gulped audibly, not exactly taking any fancy towards this sudden turn of events. A thousand and one questions fleeted through his befuddled brain, many of which were centred on the thought of possible trouble or facing the wrath of his not-so-secret aficionada. The one thing he'd learnt from life was this: never entertain a female's wrath unless one wished to experience excruciating vengeance from said woman's blades of glory and justice.

"Y-Yes, m'am," the young boy stuttered, padding obediently after the Crimson Blade spy, glaring over his shoulder once in a while at his rival.

Oh how he longed to wipe that cocky grin off Lucien's face once and for all. He'd show him. One day.

Upon arriving at the small patch of grass in the middle of the village, Nel sat herself comfortably underneath the shade of a tree, patting the spot next to her as she beckoned Roger over. He wasted no time in scurrying over, doing his best to appear at ease but failing miserably.

"A-Am I in trouble or something…? You seem pretty upset, Nel."

Nel regarded him with an unreadable expression before reaching out to wrap an arm around the Menodix's shoulders, resting her cheek against the surface of his helmet. Roger blushed from Nel's rather uncharacteristic behaviour, not exactly comfortable with the close proximity but not disliking it either. He was about to question her actions but was halted in mid-thought when he heard the female exhale a grave sigh.

"No Roger, I'm not mad. It's just…"Nel trailed off, not sure how to go about explaining her situation to him.

Roger squirmed slightly in her grip; something was definitely not right. A stagnant pause punctuated the still afternoon air, the only sounds being the resounding flow of water and the chirping of crickets. Nel cleared her throat, deciding to address the matter from a different angle.

"Well, what makes you say that?"

"Nel, what's going on?" Roger began, thinking things through before regarding the Aquarian with a determined expression.

"You've been behaving awfully strange, since last week actually- it's not like you to be so…cold."

Now, this revelation greatly surprised Nel , so she chose to remain silent. Roger picked up from where he left off.

"Nel, ya kinda stopped laughing. When we're usually on our adventures, you'd always laugh and tease us and stuff. You'd always seem so relaxed and happy, one of us, but… I noticed that ya stopped."

Roger paused to pick at a blade of grass. Bringing it up to his lips, he blew gently against it, producing the faintest of whistles, before lowering his hand. He sighed, heart heavy.

"Oh, ‘ya smile and join in our fun and games, our countless dares, but that's about it. ‘Ya don't really seem so into it anymore and the guys and I… kinda feel that we're maybe… starting to bore ‘ya."

"Roger…"

Nel gazed down at the boy, remorse and disinclination shooting through her veins. This wasn't it, wasn't her reason at all, not by a long shot. She only wished she could explain, relay to him the dire situation at hand, but was all the more unwilling. She didn't want him involved; she didn't want the boys involved, but she knew that keeping the truth from them had its consequences and more often than not, those consequences had their repercussions.

It seemed that Roger wasn't quite done with his comments, persisting on.

"And it's not just that! You've been distant, 'specially ta' me, what with ya' breathing down my neck and all. Whatever I do just doesn't seem to be good enough, but whatever the others do –especially Lucien- is always better than whatever I can accomplish! It's just that you have so much faith and trust in Melt and the others, but not me- why?"

Nel gathered the small child in her arms, hugging him close as she thought over her subsequent words. She patted his back in a silent lull, debating before finally giving into the inevitable.

"Roger, I have to tell you something and… I can't guarantee that you'd like what you're about to hear."

Roger shifted in her arms.

"I'm sure you're well aware of the dispute between Airyglyph and Aquaria, as well as their strained relationship. The countless of discussions, the idea of negotiation, were all long ago abandoned. This left us with little choice but to engage them in our own terms."

Roger blinked up at the red head in confusion. Did that mean…?

"Apparently, Airyglyph's been preparing their conquest over Aquaria for quite some time now, readying their fleet of men and beasts alike. Airyglyph's cavalry, the Storm Brigade, their heavy cavalry, the Black Brigade, and even the fearsome and ruthless Dragon Brigade… all units would be participating in this… international dispute."

"You mean- No, Nel, ‘ya don't mean…" Roger trailed off, disbelieving, but upon the older woman's silence, knew that he had little choice but to believe.

Nel nodded gravely.

"Yes, that's what it means, exactly. With such strong militia threatening the peace of Aquarian borders, under the command of her majesty, Aquarian troops have been dispatched as well to see to this war's end, with our side emerging victorious of course. I was issued the task of being Aquaria's eyes and ears in Glyphian territory; her majesty's official spy."

"But that's a risk barely anyone would wish to take upon themselves," Roger exclaimed, desperately trying to talk some sense into the hard-willed Aquarian.

"It's dangerous relaying information back and forth between the two regions! What if ‘ya get caught? I'm pretty sure Airyglyphian terms are anything but lenient…"

In an instant, Roger was right up at her face. His brows furrowed and his long, bushy tail swished side to side in agitation.

"Nel, not to sound pessimistic, but ‘ya may never make it back. Unless…" Roger gasped when Nel nodded her head slowly in silent understanding.

"You can't be serious! Nel, you can't just throw away your life like that! It's suicide!"

"I'm not going to do that, Roger!" Nel shouted, surprising them both from her sudden outburst.

"I'm not…"

She bit her lip, eyebrows narrowing as she clenched and unclenched her fists. She diverted her gaze away from the prying eyes of vivacious amber.

"Do you think I don't regret this war, the suffering that would eventually follow? Would you rather we surrender to the enemy like lambs to a slaughter? I don't want to die as much as the next person, but it's not something I can ignore! I'm doing this for my people, her majesty, my subordinates, my friends, and especially for you children."

Every sentence Nel spoke carried with it distinct traces of mounting grief.

"You, all of you, have a future to look forward to and who am I to deprive you of such opportunities? Throwing my life away, that I may be doing, but throwing my life away for the cause of saving countless of others is in itself, something worth living for."

"But—" Roger cut in, but was silenced by a single finger placed on his lips.

Nel smiled one of those smiles, the kind that spoke of volumes and endless compassion which words itself couldn't seem to express. She hushed Roger gently.

"As for the answer to your next question, it's simple enough: I love you. I want the best in you Roger, along with the rest of your friends. I push you, push you harder and beyond your current abilities, but that's because I can see so much more potential hidden within you, more than you're letting on. I'm less hard on Melt and Lezard since there's clearly nothing left for me to educate them on. However, I've yet to see the true capability of your skills, Roger."

The young Menodix was about to refute such a claim, but was interrupted by the woman before him. Nel tuttered, tilted Roger's helmet back and gave his forehead a little poke.

"Your combat skills rival that of Lucien's, your decisive and out-going nature far surpasses that of any other, that I can assure you -I'm not comparing your healing capabilities to that of Melt's- but I'm still waiting. I want to see you truly grow, to gradually develop into a real man… Roger, do you know what really makes a man, a real man?"

When Roger shook his head in response to her question, Nel leaned her back against the trunk of the tree, bringing Roger along with her. They sat there completely at ease, enjoying each other's presence. She began her explanation.

"A real man isn't judged by his skills in combat, experience, clothes, background, age, or even his physique. A real man is not just a figurehead, or someone who constantly orders others around to do their bidding, having people or underlings at their beck and call. It's not the muscles or the constant need to prove oneself that makes one a real man, but the inner reality of your character, what you stand for."

"What I stand for…?" Roger echoed, not entirely comprehending.

"Yes, what you stand for," Nel repeated. She held up her fingers as she began to list the qualities.

"A real man would be willing to put aside his goals for the sake of aiding those in need, passing up temporary glory for eternal glory. A real man would always be true to his companions and to himself. A real man wouldn't run in the face of danger, but face it head on, despite the probable consequences which may follow."

She paused to look at him, a knowing smirk gracing her lovely lips. Her fell to a whisper, tender even, as spoke and etched her words straight into Roger's young heart.

"Not all battles can be won, but to conquer the fear of defeat and is in itself a battle already valiantly won. A real man is not considered weak to have feelings of care and concern towards others. In fact, these feelings would only make him stronger because he has someone to protect, someone worth fighting for to the bitter end. This is what makes a man a real man… Do you understand now, Roger?"

Roger paused, allowing his brain to process this newfound knowledge. Nel had passed on her wisdom to him, not the others, which made him feel sort of special. Her words made him realise Nel wouldn't be around to pick up after them anymore and like it or not, he admitted that there was some truth in Lucien's statement on 'growing up', but…

'A real man would always be true to his companions and to himself,' Nel had said, so changing now for the sake of it all would just be betraying his own moral upbringing. Besides, if Nel wanted him to change, she would have said so earlier. She liked him just the way he was; he liked him just the way he was.

"Yeah, I do. Thanks, Nel, and… I'm really gonna miss ya, and so would the others."

"As I you, Roger, as I you…"

Nel released Roger and rose, dusting herself off. They regarded each other for a moment, before the usual mischievous grin was back on the young boy's face. Roger crossed his arms as he nodded in the direction of the Passage from Parch to Plenty.

"We better hurry! The guys' ought to be there by now!" He turned to Nel and grinned from ear to ear.

"Ready for one last mission, Nel?"

Nel chuckled and saluted in a playful fashion.

"Lieutenant Nel reporting for duty, sir!"

Bittersweet… yeah, she could deal with that.

* * *

 

"Heh, took ‘ya long enough," said Lucien, his hand positioned at the hilt of his sword.

The group of young humanoids turned to stare at the duo that was currently approaching the cave's entrance. Roger waved enthusiastically at his friends as he jogged over, being as loud and jubilant as ever, much to Lucien and Lezard's annoyance.

"Ah, Roger, it is nice to see that you have finally made it to partake in our latest challenge," Melt greeted his best friend, tone soothing and mysterious all the same. In his hands gripped his choice weapon: a broomstick.

Roger returned the greeting as Lezard began distributing the elixirs around.

"Melt and I have managed to compound only a small amount of Fruity Potions in our given time frame, so I strongly advise you guys to use them wisely."

Lezard pushed up his glasses before handing Roger his axe, expression smug.

"I've also created a few Mythril Stones and synthesized them with your weapons. This should give them the desirable increased attacking factor."

Nel folded her arms, wholly impressed. Lezard had indeed come a long way; he had really outdone himself this time. Offering Lezard a casual thanks in return, Roger accepted his newly beefed up weapon with great zeal, before making a mad dash towards the depths of the cavern. Dribe sighed and shook his head in exasperation. His friend ought to do something about his impulsive behaviour. If Roger wasn't careful, that very enthusiasm could eventually lead to undesirable outcomes in the future, that he was certain. It was never a good thing to throw caution and logical sense to the wind.

"Hey, Roger! Wait up!" he whined, charging in after him along with the others, laughter echoing throughout the caverns.

As Nel watched the scene unfold before her eyes, she couldn't help but put in her two fols worth of laughter as well. This was yet another reason to end this war because by the love of Apris, she was going to do all it took to end this senseless violence, to return home alive.

* * *

 

Upon entering the midnight caverns, Nel had split the party into two groups, commencing an entirely new challenge. This did nothing but leave the young boys tingling with excitement. She had termed it as a "Real Man" contest, a competition pitting individual strengths and proficiencies of each group against the other. The rules were simple enough: There was to be two teams and each team would appoint a leader, which in this case was Lucien for his team consisting of Lezard and Vellion, and Roger for his team consisting of Melt and Dribe. The teams would be given a challenge and they were to complete the task within the given time frame. There was to be no foul play otherwise that team would be disqualified and since it was a competition, the team that completed the given task first, wins. Nel had the role of being the two team's liaison, checking up on them once in a while to see if any required her assistance.

"Alright, boys, got the rules so far?" Nel clarified, crossing her arms. The children nodded their heads vigorously.

"Right, here's the challenge; listen carefully because I won't repeat myself: Deep within the caverns of the Passage from Parch to Plenty lies the beast known as the 'Dark Hunter', a human-like bird creature of great majesty. This bird rests at the hour of sunset. You have until that time to take a single tail feather and hand it to me. You may either wait until the bird is totally asleep or fight it head-on in means of obtaining that feather. But remember: you are competing for the position of 'winner', which means that you have to be fast or your efforts would be meaningless."

Lucien snorted and eyed Roger from the corner of his eye. This would seriously be too easy! He along with everyone else knew exactly how impatient the young Menodix was, what with his spontaneous mannerisms and inability to access the situation well enough before going in for the kill. To put it simply, Roger was the kind of guy who would follow his emotions before using his head. He on the other hand, had his brother and Vellion on his side –the thinkers- so he was mighty confident he could figure something out. He would not lose to Roger, sorry excuse of a man, and prove to everyone especially Nel, that he, Lucien, was the better man.

"'That's all? Hah, mere child's play!" Lucien snorted, drawing his sword. Lezard snickered along with him.

"This should prove simple enough," said Lezard, all confident.

"Everyone knows that the 'Dark Hunter' is a dangerous creature and definitely not one to be trifled with. Going against it in battle would be mere suicide, so the best option is to of course knock it out when it's drowsy from fatigue, and then claim the tail feather." He paused to smirk at the opposing team.

"Even Melt knows this, but with Roger as his captain and Dribe as a party member, they're doomed. Melt's too soft and would always hold Roger in high regard for reasons I fail to comprehend. It's safe to say that they'll follow his plan, which would consist of full-out assault. The probability of that is a good 93.78%."

Vellion watched his teammates criticize the others' shortcomings, twiddling his fingers. Somehow, he had a bad feeling about this whole competition. He was never the aggressive type; strong, yes, but he preferred engaging himself in intellectual pastimes than physical challenges like this. So, he wondered what exactly possessed him into agreeing to this in the first place… it was probably peer pressure.

"Aren't you going to make your move?" Nel questioned the three of them, as she indicated towards Roger's team who had already proceeded deep within the cave. Vellion shrugged.

"I don't know… Lucien told us to wait here and see what happens, so… we wait."

"You're giving up?"

Lucien shook his head, smirking. He inclined his head to regard the female Aquarian.

"Nah, just waiting for the right moment. We're not idiots and even you know that we can't defeat even one of those Dark Hunters. Lezard had this cave speculated way before the start of this competition and we already know the location of those creatures, so all we have ta do is wait a little closer to sunset. We've got this one in the bag!"

"And Roger?"

Lezard chuckled, haughty.

"Heh, that fool's probably thinking that if he gets to the feather first, he wins, but we're practical people; we do our best to avoid all possible means of a hassle."

Nel diverted her gaze down the path in the direction Roger, Dribe and Melt left in and couldn't help but feel gravely concerned. She had to give Lucien's team some credit; they had certainly come prepared and knew exactly what to do, planned every waking minute to claim their victory. Lezard's evaluation of the situation and of Roger's character couldn't have been more accurate, and that was what worried her.

* * *

 

"Hey, Roger, are ya sure you know where we're going?" Dribe called out in the darkness, his little ears twitching every now and then as he picked up the faintest traces of noise from the gaping abyss about them. Being humanoids, their senses were highly potent thus giving them an advantage over such situations. The lack of light didn't bother them much, not unless you were a little fox humanoid with a whiny and cowardly nature, also known as Dribe; the poor boy was utterly terrified of the dark.

"R-Roger?!"

"Aw, shut up ya moron," came said boy's impatient drawl.

"Real men aren't afraid of nothing, 'especially not the dark! So, quit being such a chicken and suck it in!"

Dribe pouted, glaring daggers at the back of Roger's head as the young one proceeded on, oblivious. Melt sighed and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing it in assurance. He urged Dribe on.

"Dribe, Roger has a point you know? If you continue to speak so loudly, you may just attract unwanted company. The guys, Nel and us, aren't the only ones here as I'm sure you're well aware of. Remember, our plan was to be as silent as possible, so we can sneak up on the beast and obtain the feather without any unnecessary disturbances."

Dribe groaned and slumped over, ears flattening against his skull in defeat.

"Yeah, yeah, I know… sorry."

The trio trudged on, fending off nocturnal species and dodging falling boulders, until they chanced upon a split road. There, they halted, pondering over their next move. Were they to go through the straight and narrow left, or the wide and winding right?

"So, what do ya think, Melt? Which way?" Roger asked as he turned to face his best friend, arms crossed behind his head in a casual stance.

The wise one pondered; he closed his eyes, meditating, foreseeing, sensing, and feeling. He opened them once more. With the aid of his broomstick, he indicated towards the right.

"Down the winding corridor of darkness lie treacherous obstacles ahead, paved with peril and smoothened with rough. Amidst the shadows, there dwells the sacred beast, guarded and safe out of harm's reach."

He pointed to the path on the left.

"Deep within the seemingly uneventful tunnel rests the creature of darkness and despair, blithe and ultimately unaware. If it is instant glory which you seek, then follow this path of the straight and narrow to reach its peak."

"Hmm…" Roger hummed, contemplating.

This was an ultimately difficult decision to make, not to mention wholly oxymoronic. Who'd ever heard of obtaining 'instant glory' from merely doing the right thing by going down the 'path of the straight and narrow'? Nothing could ever be 'instant' in this world, even if one did a thousand and one good deeds in their lifetime. In addition, Melt said 'seemingly uneventful' which meant that the journey ahead would probably be indistinct. Who knew what sorts of dangers lay ahead? At least a clearer picture was depicted by the pathway on the right.

Roger nodded his head, affirmative; it was decided.

"We're going to the one on the right."

"WHAT?!"

All eyes turned to regard the startled Foxtail, brows quirked in a questionable fashion. Roger and Melt remained silent, awaiting the ever-familiar complaints from their heroically-challenged companion. Dribe grasped the material of his shirt, tight, and toed the ground; his stance faltered.

"Are ya crazy?! Didn't you hear what Melt said?! He said 'treacherous obstacles'… no, I'm not going. You two can handle this one by yourselves. I'm outta' here!"

"For crying out loud, Dribe, where's your sense of adventure?!" Roger cut in, making a grab for Dribe's shoulder, tugging the older boy back.

"Look, all we have ta do is get that feather and we're as good as gone. Melt said there'd be a few roughs ahead, but at least we know what ta expect right? If we go the other way, who knows what sort of things await us! Besides, we're real men and we have each other, so quit being a chicken!"

Roger punched Dribe playfully in the arm.

"Don't worry Dribe, I got ya back!"

Dribe couldn't help but smile at that. Up until this very moment, Roger hadn't given up on him and continued to urge him on, giving him a hundred and ten percent of his unrelenting support. It never ceased to amaze him that the boy hadn't lost patience with him and just throw him aside. No, Roger wasn't like that at all. He never realized how fortunate it was for him to have such a loyal comrade.

"Oh, alright," he gave in, "But if I don't like it, we're leaving ya hear?"

Melt smiled as Roger laughed and waved him off.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever- now hurry up would ya? You guys are such slow pokes!"

With their weapons at ready, the party of three experienced no problems in challenging the cavern's deathly booby-traps of natural adversities. Apart from a few accomplished young mages who dwelled deep within the caverns, the rest of their adversaries had been mainly small fry. Rounds of spell-casting, slaying, and trouncing, found the trio in the middle of the Dark Hunters' nesting grounds. Roger, Melt and Dribe stood stark rigid, daring not to so much as breathe within the stifling confines of this monster-inhibited territory.

Great tufts of dully-tinted feathers rose and fell as the creatures slept on, oblivious to the arrival of the three newcomers. Melt and Dribe wasted no time in shoving their leader forward, directly towards the biggest nest of this empire. It was undoubtedly alpha male quarters. Roger held back a startled cry as he whirled around to glare at his so-called friends. That only earned him wide grins and enthusiastic waves on their part.

"Fear not, Roger," whispered Melt.

"Yeah, we're right behind you," added Dribe.

Roger pouted when he distinctively spied them backing away ever so discretely. He rolled his eyes and pushed forward.

'Thanks a lot you guys,' he thought sarcastically.

Maneuvering his way through the sea of feathers, Roger ignored the lesser members of the clan and instead, set his sights on the slumbering ruler. Upon realizing what the younger male was up to, Melt's eyes widened, immediately stepping forward.

"Roger, what in the world are you doing?!" he hissed.

"Just pick the tail feather from one of these closer to the cave's exit! That way, it'll be easier for us to make a run for it if they awaken. Haven't we already discussed this?"

"Relax, Melt," Roger brushed him off, leaning over the nest's edge as he reached for the Dark Hunter's tail.

"I'll just pluck a feather and we'll be out of here before this dumb bird knows what hit him. Plus, I wanna beat Lucien! This dumb bird's the king of the lot so its feather is probably bigger and better than the rest!"

"R-Roger, maybe you shouldn't…"

"Watcha' talking about, Dribe? Of course I should! I'm not gonna let mister high-and-mighty win this one, not in a long shot!"

Roger plucked a feather and pocketed it, blissfully unaware of the shifting mass of feathers behind him.

'Hah! Take that, Lucien!' he thought smugly to himself.

"R-R-Roger…?!"

"What now, Dribe?"

"B-B-B-B-… B-B-B-Be-…"

Roger frowned, twitching his ears.

"Sorry, pal, but ‘ya gotta speak louder than that. I can't hear a thing you're say-"

"Thunder Flare!"

Before the great beast could strike, static electricity crackled from the ends of Melt's broomstick, before shooting forward to engulf its target. Roger gasped and leapt off his perch, getting into a fighting stance alongside Dribe who had already drawn his sword. Melt raised his broomstick high above his head; alluring blue spectrums of light danced around him as the winds picked up.

"Now, feast on roaring thunder!"

The Dark Hunter screeched in agony as wave after wave of electric pulses surged through its being. Soon, the spell had begun to wear off, dissipating and reducing the poor creature to a motionless mass of feathers, twitching muscles, ruptured bones.

"Thanks for the back up, Melt," said Roger. "I owe you one."

"No thanks needed, my friend," came Melt's hushed reply, as he panted slightly, regaining his strength. "However, that was the least of our worries. We best get going before-"

"Guys, I hate to be a party-pooper, but I think we have a problem…"

Fury-induced screeches pervaded the air, reverberating throughout the still silence of the monster's lair. Nests rustled, wings and feathers beat, and piercing orbs of vermilion shot open as the entire tribe of vicious human-bird hybrids roused from their slumber. With an effortless beat of their wings, they took flight, circling the three foreign entities, disapproving. Roger, Dribe and Melt got into their defensive positions, back to back.

"Great going, Roger; now you've gone and made them mad," Dribe hissed, glaring daggers at his leader.

"Shut up, Dribe! Now's not the time to be pointing fingers at each other! We can worry about faults later; right now, we've gotta take care of these pests!"

"Right!"

Roger ghosted the tips of his fingers over his blade's edge.

"Fiery Axe," he whispered, feeling his skin prickle with the barest of heat. The blade of his axe began to glow an angry red with traces of hot stream emitting from it. He raised it above his head and cried out his attack, lunging forward.

"I'm gonna cut ‘ya down!"

There was a loud explosion, sending shockwaves throughout the premises, loosening rocky structures and sending a small group of Dark Hunters crashing head first into the ground. Before they could recover from the attack, Dribe charged forward, plunging his sword deep into the ground, and twisting it like a key.

"Earthly Ripple!"

The floor split open, the crack stretching, growing in length as the rocks and soil parted, and leaving a gaping hellhole in its wake. The creatures shrieked, caught unaware and unable to retaliate as they plummeted into the seemingly endless pit-fall.

Enraged by the sight of their entourage getting slaughtered by numbers, the remaining monsters called for reinforcements, throwing their heads back and singing for all they were worth. More screeching followed after that, echoing, seemingly doubled. The winds in the cave picked up once more, twice as more powerful as dust and debris rose in clouds, temporarily blinding the young heroes. The boys coughed and gasped, rubbing at their eyes and fighting to reclaim the amount of oxygen they had lost in that split second.

"This is bad, guys," spoke Roger, quickly accessing the situation.

They were out-numbered by about a hundred to three; no matter how they looked at it, the chances of them coming out of this battle unscathed were about close to nothing. They didn't need luck in such hectic circumstances. They needed a miracle.

"Ya think?!" Dribe bit out, fending off an oncoming monster by striking it on the cranium.

"Argh, it's no use! They just keep on coming!"

"If you can hear this voice from the depths of the underworld, then come. Come forth and aid your master!" Melt thrust his broomstick outwards, eyes narrowed in concentration as he focused on his summon.

"I release you from your fiery prison! Rise, rise, rise! I summon you, Efreet!"

The flaming warrior materialized before their eyes, leaping into the air and bringing down its blade of fiery inferno onto its unsuspecting victims. Melt's attack managed to knock them out momentarily, but it was far from enough. With the party of three split up and currently preoccupied with defending their own territories, no one was left to accommodate for the position of defence. Melt's summon left him wide open for attack, and attack the enemy did, charging forwards and smashing the young boy's skull hard against rocky, jagged walls.

"Gah!" Melt gasped, having the wind knocked out of him from the sudden and brutal force. The amount of spell-casting and summons finally took its toll on him and he slowly slid down the wall, unconscious.

"Melt!"

Distracted, Roger failed to sense the looming presence behind him until it was too late. Something clawed harshly at his back, ripping fabric and tender skin, the blood coming out in rivulets as it slowly began to stain the material of his deep green shirt. Another one of the monsters had managed to knock his axe out of his grasp, sending it flying towards the other end of the battleground. Soon, Roger found himself being shoved backwards, crying out as his wounds made contact with the uneven stone flooring beneath, digging rocks. Dribe had been pinned down and Dark Hunters were advancing on the unconscious Melt. In his current futile position, Roger did the only thing he was capable of: he screamed.

* * *

 

"Hey, did you hear something?"

"Hear what?"

Lucien's ears twitched once more, confirming his suspicions. His eyes widened. It couldn't be… that little brat couldn't be in danger, could he? He wouldn't permit himself to believe so, but there was no doubt that that pained cry came from none other than Roger. His hand travelled to the hilt of his sword. He had a bad feeling about this.  
Lezard was growing impatient.

"Lucien, what in the world's up with you?"

"He's in trouble."

"I beg your pardon?"

Lucien ignored his brother and turned to face Nel, who only nodded in response. Soon, she was off, dashing towards the path Roger and his group took with Lucien following closely behind. Vellion and Lezard looked at each other, confused expressions donning their features as they shrugged.

"L-Lezard, I don't like this… What's going on?"

Lezard frowned, eyes narrowing.

"It looks like we have little choice but to see for ourselves."

The duo took off and it didn't take them long to catch up to the others. Lezard turned to glare irritably at his brother.

"Lucien, you better tell me what's going on this instant or so help me, I'll-"

His words were cut off when they arrived at the battleground. The party of four gazed out in horrific silence as they took in the scene before them. The blood of humanoid children was splayed over the ground, dying the soil and rocky walls a shade of crimson bloom. In the far corner of the area crouched Dribe and Roger, shielding their fallen comrade from the entities that surrounded them. Melt was unconscious, Dribe was beyond exhausted, and Roger struggled to maintain consciousness but it wasn't easy. The blood that covered the land was his, the cuts he never bothered to conceal were his, and the crimson essence which mingled with beads of perspiration were representatives of his inner turmoil and anguish.

"Melt!" Lezard cried, throwing caution to the wind as he raced forward upon the sight of his battered friend, trickles of red slowly making their way down the side of his face. Nel, Lucien and Vellion weren't far behind.

"Roger, what happened here?!" Nel demanded, watching with a hard expression on her face as Roger struggled to form a decent sentence.

"I-I-… that is- well-"

"Guys, we got company!" Lucien drew his blade and shouted over his shoulder. Nel immediately ran to his side and shoved him backwards, hard and resolute.

"Never mind, Roger, just forget it! And Lucien, now's not the time to play hero! You can't handle these things!"

No one said anything. Nel drew her daggers.

"Roger, heal Melt."

"But I-"

"For the love of Apris, Roger, just do it!"

Roger turned to stare at the motionless figure that was his best friend and grimaced. The sides of the boy's face were caked with blood and his breathing was growing shallower as every second ticked by; there wasn't much time. Roger raised his arm but did nothing more - no magical glow, no swirling lights and mysterious spectrums, only the mere action itself. Nothing. The poor boy just froze there, rigid as a board. Although he willed and screamed bloody murder for something, anything to happen, his body failed to process the given information, scared stiff from the sight of his friend dying before his very eyes.

"Roger!"

"What are ya waiting for, Roger?!"

"Roger, snap out of it!"

"Roger!"

"Shove over, you pathetic numskull!"

Lezard pushed Roger forcefully aside, not caring if he had aggravated any one of said boy's appendages. Melt was in a critical stage and he wasn't going to let him die, not if he had a say in it! He dug into his robe pocket and fished out a thin vial of purple liquid, popped the cork and shoved its contents down Melt's throat, forcing him to swallow. It was a potion he had been trying to perfect for quite some time now. It was still in the works, but now wasn't the time to worry about possible setbacks. This was an emergency.

"Wha-what did ya give him, Lezard?" Dribe whispered, noticing the potion take effect. The pained expression on Melt's face was now gone, replaced with that of peace and serenity.

"Verdurous Potion: A potion that's supposed to have a 100% healing effect on its user, but since I've yet to perfect it, it only has a 40% healing effect. Nevertheless, it should be good enough."

"Will he be ok?" Vellion asked, fearing the worst.

Lezard lowered his gaze, brushing aside the deep chocolate bangs, which shielded Melt's eyes. He sighed heavily.

"I hope so, Vellion. I hope so…"

Roger couldn't bear the sight much longer and willed himself to look away. He bit his lip, drawing blood.

What was this feeling? He felt so useless, so implausibly pathetic. Where had he been when Melt needed him most? Oh right, standing there like an idiot, watching him die slowly. It had been his chance to prove himself, to show Nel and the others the real man he was, prove to them that he was as capable as the others, but he was wrong. He proved nothing; he saw nothing, nothing in himself that was worth complimenting. He blew his chance, he forfeited that trust, and crushed his chances of ever being recognized as something more than a loud show-off, and possibly ripped apart the declaration of friendship with the first ever person who liked him for who he was.

Nel stood guard before the crouched children, getting into a defensive stance as she called forth their attention. The enemy was closing in. She had to deal with this problem before they all died here in this damned cave.

"Lucien!"

"Yes, m'am?"

"You go on first and clear a path for the rest. Get Dribe to help you. Lezard and Vellion?"

"Right here, m'am."

"Take Melt and follow a little ways behind Lucien and Dribe. You best get Melt to a doctor quick! Roger, you bring up the rear."

"But-" His protest fell on deaf ears when Nel did nothing but lunge at the Dark Hunters, calling out her "Shock Wave" attack as she battled them with the grace and dexterity that would make any fighter jealous.

"That was an order, boy, not a suggestion!"

Nel's words stung, painfully. She had never called him 'boy' before, much less talked down to him, and that hurt more than any insults Lucien or Lezard could ever come up with. Nel had said she trusted him, saw more in him, believed in him, but in that split second of hesitation, Roger knew that he had thrown it all away. He knew no one could ever trust him now, depend on him anymore, and the fact that Nel was included in this cold circle only enforced deeper dejection in his heart. With a bow, he turned his back to his brave Lieutenant and did as he was instructed. He brought up the rear end.

* * *

 

"How is he, Vellion?"

The stubbly boy shook his head slowly, shoulders slumped over from fatigue.

"Not too good, Lucien… Melt's condition has pretty much stabilized, but he's not waking up. Lezard's still in there; said he'd be staying a little longer."

"Grr, this is all ya' fault you moron!" Lucien shouted and jabbed an accusing finger in Roger's general direction.

The youngest of the group said nothing, refusing to meet his rival in the eye. Lucien didn't have to rub it in. He was already well aware of the gravity of the situation and the fault that lay undeniably in him. However, no matter how hard he tried, or how long he waited, the tears never came; it was like he was unable to cry, to feel the slightest bit of remorse for his friend who had walked along the lines of death but an hour ago.

Although Roger said nothing against Lucien's accusation, Dribe wouldn't have it. The little fox-boy jumped to his friend's aid, inserting himself between the two rivals.

"Lucien, give it a rest would ya? Quit lecturing Roger! I'm sure he already feels as bad as it is. Besides, he already said he was sorry, so let's just put this matter aside-"

"What, do you have rocks for brains or something?!" Lucien interrupted harshly.

"You saw what happened back there! That idiot just stood there when he had the ability to actually change Melt's fate! So who's the bigger coward, you or him?!"

"That's not fair, Lucien! Roger probably froze from shock! That's what usually happens when someone you care about gets hurt!" Dribe defended.

"Then what would you make of my brother's actions?! You know how close those two are, but I don't see Lezard freezing from shock! What if Melt had been any one of us instead?!"

"But-" Lucien held up his hand, not wishing to hear anymore.

"Look Dribe, if ya wish ta continue defending the fool then be my guest, but leave me, Lezard and Vellion out of it. I have no idea what Melt feels, but if ya want to remain on Roger's side, then so be it, 'cuz neither the three of us want any part of this… friendship any longer."

Lucien's proclamation seemed to have gotten Roger's attention. The young boy's head shot up to stare at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Were his ears deceiving him?

"Wha-what…?" Roger whispered fearfully, confused. "Lucien… I thought we were friends."

"We were friends, but can I seriously trust someone who doesn't even trust himself? The point is, Roger, ya had the power to save someone's life, but ya simply chose not ta. No form of excuse can change that!"

"Lucien…"

The older boy held up a hand to silence him.

"Look Roger, I'm gonna make this transparently clear to you: I won't forgive anyone who hurts my friends."

Roger felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

'But aren't I your friend too?' he thought to himself miserably.

He didn't even bother to hide his tears (which he was sure were falling freely down his cheeks), much less deny Lucien's words. His words had some truth in them, and he was beginning to see the outcome of Lucien's growth. Perhaps Lucien really was the better man.

"Goodbye, Roger."

With a final bid of farewell, Lucien and Vellion brushed past him, retiring to their homes for the night, leaving Roger and Dribe to figure out the sudden turn of events and where that left them. The boys' ears perked up when they picked out the sound of approaching footsteps. The sounds ceased and before them stood Nel, arms crossed and expression unreadable. She met Roger's gaze with unwavering determination and Roger couldn't help but shrink from her stare, wholly intimidated and apprehensive.

Sensing the oppressively strained atmosphere, Dribe decided to leave the two alone to sort whatever issues they had, out.

"Hey, erm, I'm gonna go check on Melt so- see ya!" He made a break for Melt's house.

Once Dribe was out of ear-shot, Nel turned her back to Roger and spoke, her voice even and commanding.

"Follow me, Roger. We need to talk."

Not needing to be told twice, Roger shuffled obediently after her, eyes not daring to look up and never so much as uttering a single word.

* * *

 

Day had steadily crept into night. Stars painted across Elysian Field's canvas, its constellations mapping out the inevitable metamorphosis, the vicissitude of being. The sounds of daytime fell gravely still, from a nauseating crawl to a stop altogether. Wherever the wind went, the coverlet of muted twilight followed, slowly slipping into night, spurred on by the gripping forces of the strange and unorthodox; an unseen and unidentifiable power manipulating the course of its chronological tide.

Something nudged at Roger's consciousness, nagging at him that he was due for dinner back home, but strangely found himself unable to abide to his stomach's request. Furious or not, today was Nel's last time in the village and possibly in their lives and he'd much like to spend his time accompanying her last few hours here. She meant at least that much to him. When Nel had led him back to the spot where they had conversed earlier in the afternoon, Roger couldn't say that he wasn't in the least bit surprised. This spot was his favourite place in all Surferio as well as Nel's. Once seated, Nel wasted no time in getting to her point.

"Roger, about what I said earlier… I apologize for my curtness."

"It's alright-"

"No, it's not," Nel interjected. She brought her knees up to her chest and sighed loudly.  
"I was scared. I never meant for you children to get hurt, especially you, Roger."

"Me?" Roger exclaimed, stunned. "Isn't Melt the one that's critical?"

"That's not what I meant, Roger, and you know it. You were affected by today's events, and unlike Melt's – she indicated the direction Lucien left in - your wounds won't be able to heal as easily."

She reached out to wipe away Roger's tears with tenderness akin to a mother's care.

"Am I right to say so, Roger?"

Roger fell silent. Really, what was he supposed to say? Nel had pretty much summarized his feelings up to this point already. She wasn't disappointed in him, nor did she approve of Lucien's treatment towards him, but her words did little to compensate for the despair that was slowly clouding his mind. Roger still felt guilty, doubted himself, and blamed himself for the cruelties of the day's happenings. Nel pursed her lips in apprehension and decided to approach things from a different angle.

"Roger, are you familiar with someone by the name of Albel Nox? You… remind me a lot of him."

"Albel Nox? Who's that, a friend of yours?" Roger asked with wide, innocent eyes, curious.

Nel made a face and shook her head vehemently.

"Hardly—He's the captain of the Black Brigade, one of Airyglyph's three military branches and the best swordsman in the country. Renown for his cruelyty and proficiency in one-on-one combat, he's also known as Albel the Wicked."

"And you're comparing me to him?!" Roger exclaimed, aghast. Nel held up her hands in defence.

"No, no, Roger, I didn't mean it like that at all!"

Nel chuckled as she inclined her head to gaze at the shimmering night-time sky. One could see the stars more clearly in Surferio than in Aquaria.

"I think you'd understand better once you hear that man's life story… would you care to?"

When Roger snuggled up closer against her, Nel took it as her cue to begin.

"Albel Nox is the son of Lord Glou Nox, one of Airyglyph military's past leaders. He was greatly respected and definitely someone not to be trifled with, so it came to be quite a grievance when he died from the claws of a dragon. It all began with the 'Accession of the Flame' ceremony, a procession to make partnership with a dragon, as per custom in their nation.

"Unfortunately, failure held Albel in high regard that day; the dragon rejected him. Glou Nox had saved his son from death, but at the cost of his own life. As a result, Albel managed to survive, but his left arm was severely burnt, but look where he is now- Captain of the malicious Black Brigade."

"Nel…?"

Nel smiled and patted Roger on the back. She could more or less sense his confusion.  
"What I'm trying to say is, there would always be an event in a person's life that would make them stronger - to mature, to grow. Sometimes losing something important might just be the key to unlock that hidden potential. So there's no point sitting here and moping about the past. You should concentrate on what you can do here and now." Then an irritated look crossed her face. "Although he is the enemy..."

The two spared each other a glance, before burting into tiny fits of laughter. Sometime passed and Nel spared a glance at Melt's house, before swiftly rising to her feet. She dusted her skirt off with Roger all the while watching her with concern, trepidation and outmost longing. He never counted himself as someone into politics or religion or anything, but just this once, he cared about the war and prayed for Nel's safety and eventual return. He wanted things to go back to the way they were and always should be, to believe that everything was going to be all right. He knew it was wishful thinking, but he could hope, couldn't he?

"Well, my time's up. I best be off," Nel interrupted his train of thought in her usual business-like tone.

"Say goodbye to the guys for me."

Roger nodded, but just when the red haired was about to take her leave, he remembered something - something he had been dying to say since he heard the dreadful news leave the red haired Aquarian's lips.

"Nel, wait!"

Said woman paused, her stride faltering.

"Y-you must survive!" Roger shouted, his little glove-encased fists balled at his sides. "You must win this war! You-you...you come home."

At the resolute tone of the boy's words, a sad smile graced the woman's lips.

"No promises."

What else could she say to a 12-year-old child without breaking his spirit?

However, if Nel had turned around instead of walking away, she would have seen the pathetic droop of the Menodix's ears and realise how much more she hurt Roger through the coldness of her empty words.

* * *

 

Roger knocked hesitantly on the door to Melt's house, scared and uncertain. He had no idea whether Melt knew about the events in the cave after he had lost consciousness, but considering that Lezard had stayed with him all this time, he wouldn't be surprised if he knew.

Would Melt forgive him, defend his honor and remain his friend, if not his best friend? Or filter to Lucien's side, the side that would eventually continue to mock his existence?

Roger sighed. His head hurt from simply thinking too much.

"Come in," came Melt's quiet beckoning from within.

Roger sucked in a breath. It was now or never.

He grabbed the knob, bracing himself before pushing the wooden barrier open. A nervous smile spread itself across his lips as he refused to meet his friend in the eyes.

"Hey Melt, how's it going?"

The wolf-boy smiled gratefully at Roger's concern and slowly sat up with the aid of said boy, of course. Roger supported Melt's back and used his other hand to fluff up the pillow against the headboard, before laying him carefully against it. He pulled the covers over and up to Melt's stomach, making sure that the boy was comfortable before seating himself comfortably on the mattress as well. Melt smiled in thanks and Roger returned it, if not a tad bit shyly.

"Good," Melt replied. "Lezard's potion worked like a charm, although he told me to stay in bed for at least a day longer until I fully recuperate…"

Melt trailed off when he realized that his friend wasn't listening, and instead seemed to be incredibly fascinated with the fabric of his blanket, twisting and clutching the material every now and then. He frowned slightly, knowing the reason behind Roger's apparent awkwardness.

"I know all about the events which ensued within the cave, Roger."

Melt knew he hit home when he spied Roger stiffen visibly, before releasing his hold on the blanket, only to reach into his pocket to pull out a bag of Palmira flowers and some thread. He began to thread the blossoms through, never once saying anything. Melt eyed his actions suspiciously. Palmira flowers… was there something Roger desired? Melt simply let him be and continued.

"Lezard told me… and I wanted to tell you that I'm not mad."

Roger paused and regarded Melt with a look of incredulity, disbelieving.

'Is he saying this 'cuz he means it, or just to be kind?' Roger thought to himself, not knowing what to believe now.

"And if you're thinking that I'm saying this just because it was the polite thing to do, then you're clearly a trillion light years away. I think I can understand how you feel, Roger. I know it's not exactly easy to bear the sight of a close friend struggling for survival-"

"That's not it!" Roger yelled all of a sudden, throwing the garland carelessly on the bed.

"I couldn't save ya! I couldn't even move! I didn't just let ya down, Melt, but the others too! Now, Lucien, Lezard and Vellion want nothing more ta do with me thanks ta my blunder!" He slammed his fists on the cushiony mattress, sobbing bitterly.

"In a single day, I lost not just my pride, but my friends too! And worst still, I nearly lost ya, Melt! Thankfully, Dribe's still around, but the guys… I won't even blame ya if ya decide to leave. Melt, you're my best friend in the whole world, and I let ya down."

"Roger," Melt whispered gently. He handed Roger a handkerchief, watching as he blew into it.

"Like I said, I'm not mad at you, and because we're best friends, I don't plan on leaving your side anytime soon. Aren't you forgetting you were the first person who dared to strike up a conversation with me, despite how ludicrous it was?"

Roger smiled slightly from that memory. His enthusiasm on making friends almost startled the strange wolf-boy back then when they were younger.

"In addition to that, best friends don't expect anything from each other, apart from trust. You trusted me enough to socialize with me, offer me companionship in the past, so shouldn't I trust your words too?"

Roger smiled behind the cover of the handkerchief, a new wave of tears brimming in his eyes. Melt understood, believed in him, trusted him, and that was all that mattered.

"Thanks Melt, you're the best."

Melt laughed, before indicating towards the unfinished garland of flowers on his bedspread. His face was laced with inquisitive amusement.

"Care to enlighten me on what you're doing?"

"Oh, this?" Roger rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm trying my hand at making the Palmira Wishing Charm! My mom taught me. They say that if ya succeed in tying together a thousand flowers without breaking the thread, the moon goddess Palmira would grant your wish. I'm hoping for Nel's safe return…"

At the older boy's confused stare, Roger immediately divulged the secret of Nel's new role and mission, immensely relieved to get it off his chest and talk to someone about it. Of course, he trusted Melt with this secret. He believed his friend had enough foresight and maturity to comprehend the severity of such news. However, it still miffed him that the older boy could be so calm and complacent about it.

"Nel's a grown woman, Roger. I'm sure she can take care of herself."

Roger made a noise and stuck out his tongue. Childish, he knew, but this was Melt so what the heck.

"Oh, I know! But that doesn't change the fact that I wanna see her again! Why can't everyone just get along? Airyglyph and Aquaria have always lived with each other because they need each other."

Roger crossed his arms and gave a loud, frustrated huff.

"Why can't those dumb-dumbs see that? What would it take to make them see that?"

Roger pouted as Melt merely laughed. But his laughter soon faded when he was met with the sight of the younger one's despondent face. With gentle eyes that contained the wisdom of sages, he conveyed his empathy and placed a comforting hand on Roger's shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze.

"You need not fret, my friend."

Roger sniffed and rubbed his nose.

"Oh yeah? And why's that?"

Melt turned to stare out the window at the nighttime coverlet of darkness and shimmering stars. Roger followed his gaze and was momentarily astounded by the alluring majesty of heaven's crown, so much so that he almost failed to catch what his friend whispered in the quiet privacy of the room.

"… The stars say so."

"Huh?" Roger whispered.

Melt simply smiled his trademark mysterious smile.

"The stars," he repeated. "They speak. They tell of strange, marvellous things yet to come."

"Really?" Roger piped in, interested, tail swishing from side to side. "How so?"

"Wait and see Roger, wait and see…"

"And how'd you know all this, Melt?"

Melt's eyes twinkled with mirth, those intense golden irises swirling with perceptive wisdom.

"You can learn a great number of things from the stars, Roger. After all, the universe is a phenomenal entity. Who knows? Perhaps now is not the time to worry yet…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaannndddd... that's my attempt in showing how the Surferio group eventually split into two. Seriously, I'm in love with these kids and I really wanted to give them a more developed background story. Roger is one of my favorite characters and I wanted to dedicate something to him. There's not enough of this adorable Menodix online. Also, I included a little of Albel's background story too. He definitely fascinates me.
> 
> Some of you may be alarmed by Nel's caring nature. Don't worry; things will definitely change (or go back to normal if you're referring to the game) after this chapter. Just wanted to show a contrast between her character before and after the war. I figured her caring nature in the game (beneath that cool, aloof, no-nonsense attitude) must have stemmed from somewhere. Besides, war changes people. I figured her "normal" personality would be due to the hardened effects from the traumas of war.
> 
> If you like my story, please leave a review. I would love to hear what you think, and I'm always looking to improve!


	2. Love's Not My Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back (that was fast) with a new chapter. This time, it follows Fayt and shows the other side of the galaxy. I probably won't be jumping back and forth as frequently, but for now, just bear with me. You'll spot some interesting pairings and references in this chapter, along with a alternate spin on certain events, as usual.

_User ID: Fayt Leingod_

_Character: Sword Master Adonis Klein_

_User Level: AAA_

_Recorded Time of Death: 41:02:13_

_System Level: 99 – Seven Pillars of Hell_

_Would you like to resume play from your last save point or proceed to load supplementary data from external pre-existing files?_

"Well, they always say 'third time's the charm'! Right, computer?"

… Affirmative. [User ID: Fayt Leingod] to resume play from the last save point. Resetting parameters. Commencing boss fight.

A broad long-sword was swung confidently, its wielder testing its strength and feel. The young blue-haired knight stood before towering gates of hell as they parted to reveal a blazing inferno and a monstrous daemon hovering at its center. A bead of sweat tricked down the side of the young knight's face; a sure grin spread across his lips; his grip on the weapon tightened.

"Come on, come on, come on! _LET ME HIT LEVEL 100 BEFORE LUNCH - !_ "

**"FAYT ROBERT LEINGOD!"**

The blue haired knight froze in mid-strike; the game fizzed before fading out entirely to reveal the black-blue inner walls of the household game simulator. Suddenly a whole new sense of terror gripped him.

That voice.

That _naggy_ voice.

He knew it all too well.

"O-Oh… Sophia!"

Said female was standing at the entrance of the game simulator, the door wide open. Light flooded into the room, momentarily blinding Fayt when he looked up, hissing. The intensity of Sophia's glare was murderous; she had her hands on her hips; her foot tapped impatiently.

" _'Oh, Sophia?!'_ And you're playing games again? Where's your brain, Fayt?"

"You _killed_ it! Killed it, you heartless wrench! Trampled and mingled it with my 41 hours of blood, sweat and tears! Now my heart will never know the glory of maximum level! My soul will _never_ be reconciled!" was what an emotionally distraught Fayt had wanted to say, but in order to avert the probable wrath and tears from a 24/7 PMS-y childhood friend and the subsequent, tiresome string of admonishments from his parents for causing such a reaction, the 19-year-old Earthling decided to adopt a more diplomatic approach: Emotional appeal.

"I'm sorry, Sophia. It's just… I just wanted to finish this game before our trip to Hyda so I could spend more time with you."

His inner voice called bullshit.

Hyda IV was the fourth planet of the Kappa Sector's Hyda System and had an atmospheric composition similar to that of Earth. An axial tilt of 34.6°, a surface gravity of 0.9 G, and orbiting at 1.4 Aus away from its star, its equatorial regions of mild temperatures and low humidity made it a choice location for health resorts. His parents had made plans before the holidays rolled in, to get a little R&R on Hyda's beaches and get away from the stress of work. Granted, Fayt himself could use a break from University, but he didn't see the point of traveling far across the cosmos just for _that_. I mean that's what games were for… right?

Sophia gave him a suspicious frown.

Fayt decided to finish his oh-so-earnest explanation off with a bashful smile, complete with a sheepish rub of his neck. When he noticed Sophia's stare and stance falter, he couldn't help but applaud himself inwardly. 19 years and he still had it. Now if only that worked for his teachers… and his grades…

"Ohhh… Fayt, you're the most – the most - !"Sophia sighed and slumped forward in exasperation. "Just forget it. You know I can't stay mad at you. But you know, if you keep playing games all the time, you'll turn into a brainless muscleman."

Fayt offered her a slight smile and decided to ignore that last comment, but curiosity soon got the better of him. His game-loving mind drew the conclusion that there had to be a reason for the girl to interrupt his ascent to victory. And high score. And top ranking on Earth. And top 20 in the entire Sol System.

"So what's up?" he asked.

The brunette straightened up and flashed him a cheeky grin, her eyes narrowing in a leer.

"Oh, nothing… Just came to tell you the shuttle's going to be here in an hour," she said innocently. "You know, the one that's taking us to Hyda IV?"

When all Fayt did was blink at her stupidly, she giggled and jogged out, calling over her shoulder.

"Hope you're all packed!"

The minute the battle simulator doors slid shut, all hell broke lose.

_"Shiiiiitttt!"_

Fayt didn't even bother to shut down the system properly before making a mad dash to the transporter that linked the living area to his bedroom. He spied his parents' and the unmistakable pink, kitty paw-print luggage of Sophia's placed by the house's doorway… all except his.

There was one simple explanation why: he hadn't packed yet.

'God damn it! Can't this thing be _any_ slower!?'

Once out, he burst into his hurricane-strewn room, occasionally getting his feet tangled up in lose underwear and falling face-first into dirty laundry. His nose crinkled when he smelt three-days old sweat in his P.E sports jersey… Never mind that. Fayt scrambled to his computer and after punching in a few buttons, a large translucent blue screen materialized in thin-air displaying a lock icon. Fayt growled in frustration.

_"MOOOOMMMM! WHAT'S MY LUGGAGE PASSCODE?"_

"You haven't packed yet!?" came Ryoko's voice from somewhere in the house.

 _"MOOOOMMMM!"_ Fayt whined.

"Oh, why am I even surprised? VAC-124-0087E/56!"

"Thanks!"

As soon as the luggage materialized in the center of his room, Fayt flung open his closets and proceeded to toss in every single article of clean clothing he could find. Suffice to say, it wasn't much, but it'll do. Along the way, he could've sworn he threw in some winter clothing as well, but was way past the point of caring especially since the shuttle would arrive soon. Optimistically, perhaps he'd start a new trend on Hyda or something – "Fun in the sun Fur coats" or "Boas by the Beach"… yeah, maybe not, but at least they still had that "fresh out of the washing machine" smell.

In his haste, he had accidentally knocked over a gold, metallic object off the top of his work desk. The circular, flat device clattered onto the floor and the top lid sprung open to project a marvelous and extensive view of the Milky Way galaxy and its dazzling stars. It was currently jammed at the Elicoor System. This was for his Astronomy class for a project due after summer vacation.

Now, Fayt Leingod wasn't exactly the studious type and usually left his homework to the very last minute, but when it came to anything related to engineering, that was a whole different story. Despite being the son of the famed Dr. Leingod, a researcher of Symbological Genetics for the Pangalactic Federation, and accepted into the School of Symbological Genetics in the Bachtein Science University, Fayt knew this wasn't the life for him. He had always been more interested in the field of Engineering – had a knack for it too – and was more than half-tempted to enroll in the school of that profession. There was just something immensely appealing about gadgets and gizmos compared to spells and mystics, proton canons to summoner circles. Alas, there were certain expectations pertaining to the Leingod name.

Fayt crouched down and picked up the small device. He unscrewed the main compartment and found that a few wires had been shaken lose. It didn't affect the touch, information and projection capabilities, but it prevented him from accessing other regions in the MilkyWay like the Sol System. This project was his baby and the urge to repair it was nagging at his conscience.

'Ah well. At least mom and dad won't complain if they see me bring _some_ homework for the trip,' Fayt mused, throwing a few tools into his luggage and pocketing the device. He attached a chain to it in case it fell out of his pants during the journey.

Done with his packing and having a few more minutes to spare, Fayt typed in some codes on his computer and the wall beside his bed disintegrated to reveal the view of the nighttime cityscape. The sight was spectacular, glorious in its divine technological splendor: shuttles and public transporters whizzed past on seemingly insubstantial roads that lit up in colors to compliment the commercial buzz of the extravagant city; towering skyscrapers and beauteous parks fanned the landscape on floating platforms and islands; the evening horizon shimmered and faded to be replaced with visions of dark blues and purples of muted twilight; and at the center of the hustle and bustle, hovered the proud statue of Lady Liberty – a timeless and transcendent beacon of hope and progress.

Fayt couldn't help but release a sigh of utmost longing. True, his home was magnificent; he had friends who would simply kill to live in such a fine establishment. However, there was one thing Earth lacked and that was the sight of stars. He remembered seeing in some old history videos of Earth during his time at college that in the past, without all the blinding lights to block out the darkness, people would look out to the wisdom of the stars for guidance. Earthlings of old claimed that the stars held all the answers, indiscernible layers of untold secrets that men could only hope to understand.

Well, he didn't know about that, but one thing's for sure – they made a pretty sight.

He took out his device and flipped it open, taking in the wondrous image of the plentiful stars that surrounded the Elicoor System. Man… living there for a while wouldn't be half-bad, he reckoned.

He was forcefully dragged out of his musings when Sophia's hologram appeared before him, a bemused smile on her lips and wide eyes twinkling with mirth. She was wearing a pastel pink pullover that ended precariously at mid-thigh, concealing what Fayt assumed to be a swimsuit, and a pair of matching pink slippers; her long chocolate locks that were usually let down, were tied up in a messy bun. The hologram placed her hands behind her back and leaned forward, giggling sweetly.

"You ready for Hyda, Fayt?"

Said male grinned in response.

"As ready as I'll ever be!"

He placed his bedroom on hibernation mode and picked up his luggage. It was time to have some fun!

* * *

 

This… was not fun.

The journey to Hyda had taken approximately two moons, making Fayt rot away on the transport shuttle in pure boredom and regret having not brought his portable game system with him. Then, they arrived, and Fayt's suffering didn't appear to cease at all.

Apart from accidentally bumping into and being told off by an annoying green clown, and having his luggage tossed carelessly into his hotel room by an obviously inexperienced, but extremely handsome and well-built blonde bellhop (the man just smirked and shrugged as Fayt raged), Hyda IV hadn't exactly lived up to its expectations of "choice holiday spot" in Fayt's opinion. On top of that, his parents had banned him from accessing Granntier Resort Hotel's game simulator at the lobby, placing Sophia in charge of their wayward son as they went to the beach to soak up some sun.

Sophia being Sophia and a girl, couldn't agree more with Uncle Robert and Aunt Ryoko's instructions pertaining to her childhood friend's one true love: games. Fayt swore she had some sort of vengeance against them; the girl did everything in her power to keep him far off the lobby premises as possible, arranged with the hotel management to cut off even the simplest of console games from his room computer, and made sure he stuck with her wherever she went. Of course, this meant that he was obliged (forced) to do whatever she wanted.

It was official. This summer totally sucked.

Fayt found himself gazing out at the ocean and let out a weary sigh. Weren't vacations supposed to be _fun_? The kind where everyone was free to do whatever they wanted and enjoyed themselves, kind of fun? So why in the 100 billion galaxies was he out here, appeasing his childhood friend, when he _could_ be inside playing video games, which was something he found to be _extremely fun_?

Oh right. Because he was supposedly grounded on a holiday resort. Yeah, that made _real_ sense…

That and when Sophia caught him trying to sneak off to the lobby, she had threatened to cut all the wires in the resort! Somehow, Fayt didn't doubt she'd do just that. It was Sophia after all…

"Fayt Leingod!"

**"I'M STILL HERE!"**

And true to his words, Fayt hadn't moved from his spot on the sand, while Sophia continued splashing around in the water. She had on a lose-fitting but revealing pink tank top that showed off her cleavage nicely; her tight-fitting hipster jeans were unbuttoned. This left Fayt wondering how he hadn't noticed his childhood and best friend mature into the lovely lady he was looking at now, or why he never felt attracted to her in all their years of knowing her. Guys at school would make passes at her, or complain about how lucky he was being close to her, but he felt nothing. In fact, Fayt wondered when was the last time he actually felt any particular attraction to any girl, or anyone really, and no, special event-only master-level game equipment didn't count… no matter how sexy that Fire Lance in "Flaming Battalion IX" was.

Fayt noticed that Sophia had her jeans rolled up and the water was only up to her ankles, leaving him to wonder what the point of going to the beach was, if she didn't intend to actually swim… or get wet… Why did she need him here again?

Then again, if she _did_ want to swim, all she had and insisted on maintaining, was last year's bikini, and she was getting a little pudgy with all the sweets she'd been snacking on. Yeah, no matter how 'hot' the girl got, she would always be his chubby Sophia… Maybe it was a good thing she didn't want to actually swim after all.

Suddenly, someone waved a hand in front of his face and when Fayt looked up, he found himself staring at a cute brunette girl about his age – wearing a swimsuit that actually _fit_ her and _boy_ , _how it fit her_ – standing before him.

"Hey there," she eyed him from head to toe. "Say… you're kinda cute. And kinda single, hmm? What'cha doing all alone here?" A flirty smile was on her face.

"Um, uh, nothing…" was all that Fayt managed.

The girl's smile morphed into a seductive leer. She sat herself comfortably next to Fayt and sidled up against him. She whispered into his ear, adding a little needy whine to her tone, "You know… hanging on this beach has got me as dry as a dog. If you're not doing anything, wanna come up to my room for a little… drinky?"

"Um… Uh… Drinky…?" Fayt stuttered in confusion, before the realization of what she truly meant dawned on him. He blushed from head to toe.

"W-Well, I… You see – "

"Fayt, who's _this?_ "

Saved by the one person he had been complaining about the whole day. He took it all back. Well, most of it.

For his personal safety (as a man), Fayt shrugged, honestly not knowing who the flirt was other than a girl trying to get into his pants… He didn't think he should mention that though. He didn't want to add 'getting slapped by a girl' on his list of vacation plans.

The flirt merely looked Sophia over in disdain, crinkling her nose as if she smelt something unpleasant. Then, she flung herself at Fayt and clung onto his arm shamelessly, nodding at the now fuming Sophia.

"Who's _that_ ," she drawled "your sister?"

And so, Fayt, the suave gentleman of his time, said the first thing that came into his mind.

"Um, yeah, something like that."

" _WHAAATTT!?_ Since when were we brother and sister?!"

"I said 'something _like_ a sister'! What're you getting all mad about? Sheesh!"

Oh,great. Simply _fantastic_. Why was he always the one in the wrong? What had he done now? He'd only just told the damn truth! He had known Sophia since they were kids; she was just like a sister to him. For goodness sake, they bathed together when they were little and they still walked into each other's room half-naked sometimes… Shouldn't the girl be _happy?_

The flirt seemed to be satisfied with his answer. "Great! Then she's not your girlfriend and can _bug off!_ "

And then the wires in Fayt's brain made a connection. Ohhh… Now this was going to be complicated… and awkward…

The love of his life was still video games of course, but… that would explain Sophia's wild blushes when she saw him shirtless.

"Look lady, Fayt doesn't want to go anywhere with you! He's with me, so just leave him alone!"

"Uh – "

"Who are you, his mom? Why not let Fayt-darling decide for himself what he wants! He's a _grown man_! I'm _sure_ he has his needs. So scram, little girl."

"Uh – girls?"

" _Little girl?!_ You're one to talk, you bi – "

"Hey! Calm down, you two! Knock it off!"

The new voice came not from Fayt – who hardly knew how to even identify the makings of a catfight, let alone break one up – but from a Foxtail girl in a yellow bikini. She appeared to be around the same age as Fayt and the brunette flirt, and judging by the way she casually placed her hand on the aforementioned girl's shoulder, they were probably friends. The humanoid's action seemed to have calmed her friend down, but Sophia was still livid.

"Keiko, leave these two alone, okay? Let's just enjoy our holiday. You've tried every guy on the beach already. Time to call it a day, don't you think?" The girl nodded reluctantly, before rising to her feet and making her way back to her tanning spot. Satisfied, the Foxtail girl turned to Fayt and Sophia (who had calmed down significantly at the flirt's departure) and bowed in apology.

"I'm so sorry for my friend's behavior. She's a little… hot-tempered. I hope we didn't interrupt anything…?" She indicated at the two teenagers, who shifted awkwardly.

"No, it's fine. Thank you… for your help," Fayt replied politely when he realized Sophia wasn't going to say anything.

The humanoid shot him an apologetic stare, before turning around and walking out of sight. Fayt discreetly watched her go the entire way, paying extra close attention to the swish of her tail as she swayed her tan hips. Now, Fayt had never really been attracted to any of the girls who had come onto him in the past, nor had he shown any particular interest in those who didn't, but he had always felt an erotic pull to the exotic-looking ears, tails or other features of various races of humanoids. Earth didn't have many of those, and neither did Hyda… although he did see a few Felinefolk, an elf-eared boy from Expel, a Featherfolkian here and there at their hotel, the occasional Foxtail like that girl over there… He didn't care much about the rest of the girl (other than her admirable maturity), but _damn_ , there was something about those ears and tails…

"Fayt? Are you checking out that fox girl? _Fayt?!_ Oooh! Forget it!"

Before he could utter an intelligible response, Sophia had stormed off towards the transporter room that led back to the hotel, leaving Fayt to groan inwardly on what he did wrong this time. He sprinted after her and caught her by the shoulder, spinning her around to face him effortlessly. While Sophia's eyes blazed with unspoken fury and irritation, Fayt's shone with absolute perplexity.

"Aw, come on Sophia, why are you so upset? I-I didn't play any video games; I bought you that strawberry milkshake you wanted; I went to the beach with you; heck, I even went to that beauty spa with you; I didn't go with that girl… What did I do wrong?"

Her glare shot up by 10 levels on the intimidating scale.

"You really don't know anything, do you?"

There was a long pause, before Fayt slowly and calmly shook his head, sincere confusion shining in his eyes – no, he really didn't. When Sophia realized the sadness of this truth, she closed her eyes and slowly let her earlier anger dissipate. She took a deep breath before opening her eyes, doing her best not to show how torn she really was on the inside. Really, she was disappointed.

"Fayt, am I… am I really just like a sister to you?"

Fayt's heart jumped to his throat and he cleared it, adverting his eyes awkwardly. So, his earlier suspicions were true… But he had always been honest with Sophia, and he figured she deserved the truth even now, no matter the hurt she would undoubtedly feel from here on. He nodded his head. Her eyes were downcast.

"O-Oh… I… I see…" she bit her trembling lower lip.

Fayt shifted in his place uncomfortably. He wasn't exactly the best at expressing his feelings and he didn't feel particularly good rejecting his best friend, who also happened to be the worst at controlling her emotions. Thankfully for him, Sophia didn't press him on that any further.

"A-And that girl… Keiko? The one on the beach? Did you… like her?"

No, Fayt wanted to tell her – wanted to tell her how it was weird, how it was wrong, and how it was unjustifiable to fall madly in love with someone he just met. But he needed to treat this conversation delicately and chose not to mention that.

"No, I didn't."

"And that fox girl…?"

Fayt sighed, exasperated.

"No, Sophia," he answered gently "I don't like her either."

Sophia took a while to collect herself, gather her thoughts and control her emotions. Yes, she was hurt by the fact that the guy she had liked for so long didn't return her feelings. Yes, she was disappointed because she had thought that the reason Fayt always rejected girls before was that maybe, _just maybe_ , he liked her too; and yes, she felt betrayed because she thought that being her best and childhood friend, Fayt would never hurt her. However, she guessed that when it came to matters of the heart, they had to draw a line.

All of a sudden, she let out a little giggle. It wasn't much, simply a mere whisper and slight shake of her shoulders, but it was enough to catch Fayt's attention. Least to say, he was mystified. One moment, the girl looked so torn between anger and tears that she looked like she was about to experience a breakdown; the next, she was practically laughing.

'Girls are weird,' Fayt thought to himself in fear. ' _Very_ weird.'

"W-What are you laughing about?" he asked hesitantly.

"Oh, nothing," Sophia smiled, but even Fayt could tell that it was forced.

"I'm just wondering when you'd ever get your first girlfriend! I mean - you've never showed any interest in them, which makes me wonder… No, NPCs in video games don't count," she added playfully, noticing her friend pout at that observation.

And then, the implicit meaning of her words finally hit him.

"Hey, wait! Are you saying that I'm…"

Sophia smirked. "I didn't say anything, Fayt." Then she remembered something. "But you were rather focused on that fox girl… I wonder why?"

Fayt blushed and mumbled something quickly beneath his breath. Unable to catch that, Sophia leaned in closer and made him repeat it. With great reluctance, Fayt did so… and immediately regretted it when she burst out laughing.

"Ah ha ha! Who would've thought you were into _those_? So, not only does your preference lie elsewhere, but you have a fetish too?"

"Sophia, quit it!" Fayt snapped, but with the mad crimson across his cheeks, it sounded more like a pathetic whine. "Some people like those with great bodies; some like ears and tails… I'm not gay!"

"I – gasp – I'm n-not s-saying – gasp – anything!" she managed in-between her laughter. "I'm just surprised! You never told me this before…"

When her laughter died down, a forlorn smile graced her lips, softening her features. Fayt gazed at her, instantly reminded of innocence in their childhood.

"Fayt?"

He answered her gently. "What is it? Are you still upset?"

Sophia shook her head. "No, it's just… I just thought it would be nice… finding someone you're close with to spend the rest of your life together. You know… like Uncle Robert and Aunt Ryoko."

"Sophia…" Fayt took a confident step forward and pulled her into a comforting embrace. The younger one clung onto him without a second thought. "You don't have to spend years knowing someone, being with someone, to be close. The both of you may live in different systems and still be close. Right here – he placed his hand over his heart – You'll just know. Don't worry, you'll find him. One day."

Sophia sniffled and gave a curt nod. Fayt held her a little longer before pulling away. She was obviously still upset, so he employed the one sure way to cheer her up.

"Hey, Sophia? Hey – hey, look at me – how would you like it if I gave you Dr. Leon's book, _The Special Theory of Symbology_?" Sophia's sadness melted into an almost dreamy look.

Dr. Leon D. S. Gehste was Felpoolian man (a race of humanoids) who lived on Expel hundreds of years ago, just when the planet was joining the Pangalactic Federation. He had mastered Symbology at the young age of 12, and his knowledge was still revered and taught in schools till today… Of course, it had taken until college for Fayt to learn that Dr. Leon had engaged in a secret love affair with an older man he had met as a child. Heck, he doubted that Sophia had even heard of Claude C. Kennedy, an ex-lieutenant of the Pangalactic Federation, let alone he'd shared the bed with her childhood idol. Fayt couldn't understand why they always left out the juicy details in high school.

"Really? You'll give me Dr. Leon's book?" Her excitement faded as she recalled something. "But… isn't that Uncle Robert's book? No can do, you can't just give me his treasured possession… It's a first edition signed copy and it's hundreds of years old!"

Fayt shrugged, shooting her a wide grin.

"Nah, dad gave it to me recently, and I want you to have it. I even begged him for it, just so I could give it to you! I wanted to give it to you as a birthday present, but… it'll be yours anyway so what the heck! Dad said I could give it to someone as long as it was you."

It wasn't a complete lie – his dad had given it to him, yes, but he wasn't all that interested in Symbology. It was Dr. Leon's love life that fascinated him. He didn't know what he'd ever do with the thick book anyway – except maybe use it as an over-size, fancy paperweight – so he figured Sophia would have a better use for it than him.

"Fayt… I can't lie and say I don't want it, but…" She looked him in the eye, a determined expression on her face. "Keep it until my birthday and just promise me one thing."

He nodded, curious where she was going with this.

"Promise me that you'll never bribe my – anyone's grief with presents ever again, okay?" Fayt was taken aback by her bluntness, but nevertheless agreed.

"Roger. Message received loud and clear!" He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck nervously. "So… we're cool, right?"

Sophia just gave him a small smile and placed her hand gently over his. "I… I think I'll head to my room now. I need to be alone for a while. To sort out my feelings… but I'm not mad anymore. Thanks… for being honest with me, Fayt. I'll… see you later, okay?"

Fayt nodded his head in understanding.

"Sure, take as long as you need… If you need anything, I'm still here for you."

"I know. You're a good friend, Fayt." She stepped into the teleporter and disappeared.

* * *

 

Fayt wandered aimlessly around the hotel, his body physically present but mind not so much. He was finally alone; he could do whatever he wanted without fear of getting caught by his parents. However, the thought of Sophia's earlier confession earlier didn't really inspire his urge to sneak into the lobby and play video games anymore… He sighed; this vacation just seemed to be getting from bad to worse.

Too absorbed in his thoughts, Fayt didn't see where he was going, nor did he seem to hear the distinct _'whoosh!'_ of a door sliding open, but when a child's voice called up to him, he found himself looking down into a pair of curious eyes of a tanned little girl. The child had milky-blonde hair tied up in messy pigtails, had on a pair of large loop earrings, and adorned a peculiar pink-purple costume with matching sashes that hung from her bracelets to her waist. On her feet she had on a pair of strange yet clumsy-looking shoes.

"What? Who _are_ you? And what're you doing here? This is the Rosetti Troupe's dressing room!" said the girl, tilting her head innocently to one side as she accessed him. Then, a sudden spark of realization entered her eyes.

"I know! You must be one of my fans!"

Fayt blinked once, twice, and then three times. Was it him, or did his brain fail to compute every single thing that was occurring today?

"Um… what?"

The girl twirled around and clapped her hands in glee. "That's it, that's it! You are a fan! Normally, I'd tell you to wait until after the show, but since you're so cute, I'll make an exception! Don't go spreading it, you hear? What's your name by the way?"

"Uh… Fayt? Fayt Leingod."

The young gypsy then took out a black permanent marker, stood behind Fayt, and began defacing the back of his shirt.

"To my darling… Fayt… With love from... the Fairy of Illusions… Pepitta Rosetti – she finished it off with a childish drawing of her face – There, all done!" Fayt stood there mortified. He didn't even want to know what she did to his shirt.

"Look, Pepitta, was it? I'm not a fan – and who are the Rosettis?" Fayt asked, honestly curious.

"Huuuh?" the girl called Pepitta pouted. "You're… not a fan? Then – then who are you? And how could you not know who the Rosettis are? We're the best circus performers in the entire galaxy!"

"Circus performers? You're a performer?" Fayt echoed, taking the opportunity to access the room he was in. The floors were brightly tiled – different from the other rooms in the hotel – and random props that were usually used in circus acts, were strewn all over the room. To the corner, a large clothing rack stood with various brightly coloured, sequin-lined costumes hung on it. At the other end of the room was a vanity corner with a wide mirror lined with lights and a bunch of makeup scattered over the tabletop; a black magician's hat lay inconspicuously on the stool.

Pepitta nodded her head vigorously. "Yup! We're going to perform tonight and it'll be my first show! I'm the host you see, so I gotta entertain the crowd really well before the show starts!"

Fayt smirked at her and crossed his arms. "Oh? So you've never performed before?"

She laughed nervously. "Heh heh… Yeah… Figures you're not my fan. I _did_ think it funny at first…"

"Yeah, but hey – for what it's worth, this is your very first autograph! It's going to be worth something in the future, huh?" The little girl seemed to perk up at his words. "Oh it'll be worth something alright! You'll probably be able to but a whole planet with that shirt! Maybe even three!"

Fayt chuckled. He would never get tired of the enthusiasm from children, but even this he had to be skeptical about.

"Woah there! Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?"

Pepitta's excitement faded and her gaze fell to her feet, disheartened. She toed the floor. "You… don't believe me, do you?"

"Little missy, you alright, eh?" came a new voice to the side. A tall clown wearing an elaborate green and yellow outfit rushed right over. Seeing the little girl so distraught, he immediately turned to glare at Fayt. It was at that moment Fayt recognized him to be the grumpy clown that told him off earlier upon his arrival to Hyda.

"Who do you think you are, kid, eh? Insultin' the little missy and all, eh!"

"But I – "

"No, Gonnella, he just – "

As Pepitta began explaining the situation to the older clown, Fayt began to notice certain things that he hadn't before – like how Gonnella had pulled her close against his waist in a comforting gesture; how his fingers stroked her hair; how his frown melted into concern at the sight of her tears…

And that was when Fayt realized the major blunder he had just committed. The whole point of this wasn't about the money or autograph, but rather…

"No, I believe you," he said kindly, kneeling down to Pepitta's eye level, doing his best to ignore the furious clown who was probably glaring holes through his head.

"I'm sure you'd do great, Pepitta; and I'll be sitting right in the front, cheering you on!"

She gasped, her eyes wide in wonder and a light blush adorning her baby cheeks. "Really, Fayt? You really mean it?"

"Cross my heart!"

Pepitta cheered loudly, her prior sadness easily forgotten. "Yay! You're the best, Fayt! Wait right here, I'll go get you a ticket!"

When she zipped out of sight, Gonnella took that opportunity to approach Fayt and size him up. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the clown was jealous. Fayt simply stood his ground though, which seemed to aggravate Gonnella further.

"I don't care who _you_ are to the little missy, but I don't trust you, eh!" he growled lowly so as to not attract Pepitta's attention. Fayt wasn't the kind to back down from a challenge.

"Well, that makes two of us because I don't trust _you_! What are you doing with the girl? Are you ignorant or something? She's practically half your age!" he hissed in retaliation.

Gonnella fell silent and just when Fayt thought he finally got the upper hand against him, the clown regarded him with a solemn stare. Gone was the informal wayward attitude when he next spoke, "By saying that – he shook his head – Kid, you just proved who the real ignorant one is."

He stepped away and proceeded to aid his lover in her search for the invitation ticket. Fayt simply stood in his place, feeling lousier than ever before.

Damn it. Love seriously wasn't up his alley; and he wondered why video games always made it look so simple and straightforward.

Maybe if he'd just stick to defeating Level-100 bosses, everything would be better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... did anyone catch the references? ;p
> 
> Read and review please!


	3. Making Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the views. It puts a smile on my face knowing that there are people actually reading my work.

"You got your ticket, now _beat it_ , eh!"

"Wait, Gonnella - !"

And that was how Fayt found himself literally thrown out of the dressing room, only to land unceremoniously – and rather heavily – on his bottom on the cold and hard tiled floor. "And if I see you upsettin' my little missy again, you're gonna wish you had never come to this planet!" The door slid shut and Fayt could've sworn he heard a faint yet cheerful, "See you at the show, Fayt!" from beyond it. He groaned and forced himself to his feet, dusting the back of his pants.

God, he hated clowns.

Reaching into his pocket, he took out his communicator and flipped it open. A disappointed frown marred his features when he realized Sophia hadn't attempted to contact him during the past half-hour. What was the girl doing? Was she all right? Maybe she was secretly starving herself in her grief and it was all his fault… The temptation to check up on her was exceedingly high. But then again, she had clearly stated that she needed some time alone…

Next was the matter regarding his parents: Did they know? Had Sophia told them? How would they feel? Disappointed? Upset? He always suspected that they expected him to end up with his best friend (the Leingods and the Esteeds went way back), even if it was obvious that whatever he felt towards her was purely platonic…

"Yo, kid! Snap out of it!"

"Huh?"

A pair of smiling, deep green eyes met his and when his brain finally caught up to the present, Fayt gave a yell of recognition.

" _YOU!"_ He jabbed an accusing finger at the startled man.

_"You broke my luggage!"_

It took a while for the well-built blonde to figure out what the boy was getting at, before he chuckled and casually swatted Fayt's hand aside. The bellhop ran his fingers through his hair nervously and it was then Fayt suddenly noticed the amount of muscle this guy was packing. The pale beige hotel uniform hugged every inch of the man's body _very_ nicely; teasing at the obvious toned body it was desperately trying to hide. The sleeves of the uniform were ripped off to accommodate his muscular arms. A peculiar black tattoo was wound around his neck. How Fayt hadn't noticed all this before, he had _no bloody idea._

The golden haired Adonis noticed Fayt's stare and shot him a teasing wink.

"Sorry, kid, but guys aren't my style. If you get my drift."

Fayt caught himself and shook his head vehemently.

"Shut up, I don't swing that way," he growled, very much perturbed. What was this, a running joke or something?

"Anyway, what do you want?"

"Just wanted to pass you this." The bellhop tossed him a small black keycard. "Sorry for breaking your stuff. Just let the hotel scan that before you leave and we'll compensate for the damages."

Fayt stared at the card for a good two seconds before pocketing it. Maybe he'd take back what he said about this guy earlier. At least he was nice enough to look for him and apologize… or it could just be the resort's way of diverting customer bad-mouthing with regards to their service.

"Thanks, um…" Fayt trailed off, realizing he didn't know the man's name.

"The name's Clyde Forecaster. Don't sweat the details, kid. No thanks needed."

The blonde gave a casual salute before turning around and walking off, disappearing around the corner, Fayt watching him go. He couldn't explain it, but there was just something nagging at the back of his skull that that Clyde guy didn't belong in his current line of work. Heck, he looked better suited as a self-defense coach, or gym instructor… or fit enough to enlist in one of the Federation's military units.

Fayt shrugged and proceeded down the opposite direction towards the lobby. There wasn't really much to do apart from killing time with video games – God forbid, did he just think that? Besides, it'd be hours before dinnertime, so he figured he'd at least try to hit Level-100 with his character by then.

Just then, his communicator beeped and when he flipped it open, he was greeted by the sight of his mother's smiling face. Judging by the straw sunhat on her head, she was probably still by the beach.

"Hey, mom. What's up?" he began cheerfully.

" _Fayt, honey, your father and I won't be joining you and Sophia for dinner tonight. We're terribly sorry about that."_

"Wait, why?" His smile disappeared. Oh, great. Perfect timing.

" _It's our anniversary, sweetie! Don't you remember?"_

She sounded hurt and Fayt did a double-take, rubbing the back of his neck in shame. Damn, how could he have forgotten that? His parents' anniversary had practically been the other reason for their holiday trip to Hyda… it _was_ where his dad proposed to his mom after all.

"Oh, right. Sorry, mom… must've slipped my mind." Ryoko Leingod gave her son a knowing look.

" _You were probably in the middle of one of your games, weren't you? Oh, no matter; as long as you don't overdo it. You kids be good and don't bully Sophia. Use the money I gave you to buy something nice to eat – and no, junk foods do not make proper meals. Don't go wasting it all on video games, you hear?"_

What was this? He wasn't five anymore, for goodness sake!

" _Sorry again, honey and apologize to Sophia for me. Have fun!"_

"Okay, mom. You too."

The conversation ended and Fayt snapped the device shut. He highly doubted Sophia would accompany him for dinner tonight, much less leave her room and see him, at least for today. He sighed loudly as he dragged himself through the lobby doors. He stared dispassionately at the game simulator.

"Make that Level-120…"

Man, who would've thought playing video games would've struck him as boring?

He keyed in his login details and stepped back as the simulator door whooshed open.

* * *

 

Sophia lay on her stomach and sighed, disheartened. Despite the warm and beckoning beams that filtered through her balcony windows from Hyda's sun, the brunette couldn't bring herself to go out and bask in all its glory, lounging lethargically on the room's queen-sized bed. She was currently flipping through her information tablet and catching up with the latest teenage gossip. The floor was littered with chocolate-sweet wrappers and to the side was a black trashcan stuffed with empty candy boxes. Sure, Fayt had told her time and time again to watch her diet, but she couldn't help it! She snacked when she was depressed… Besides, if she got fat, it'll be Fayt's fault – so there!

Girl-logic made perfect sense.

The brunette was in the middle of an article titled '10 Easy steps to get over your crush', when a new article popped up at the top corner of her screen, the little icon flashing a brilliant red. This caused her to frown curiously. The colour red referred to article notifications pertaining to Intergalactic News. She dragged the article with her finger and expanded it outside the tablet to get a better look, only to roll her eyes in exasperation. So apparently, both the Aldian Empire and Vendeen were at war with each other and both parties _still_ didn't appear to want to reach any form of mutual consensus – big deal.

The Aldian Empire operated in a hive-like collective, their race possessing no concept of individuality, nor awareness of a higher consciousness, and its people were all connected to a single organism on their home world. The Aldians had declared war against the Pangalactic Federation simply due to the fact that they failed to comprehend the concept of individual life forms under the Federation's protection. Then there was the Vendeeni, an amphibian race of technological prowess that showed zero interest in the Federation. Everyone knew of their constant and adverse rejections towards Federation assistance, even during times of war such as their current strike with the Aldian Empire.

"A bunch of stubborn idiots if you asked me…" Sophia muttered.

She knew there were other organizations out there that continuously resisted the Federation and she frankly couldn't understand why. The Pangalactic Federation were always steadfast in ensuring the progress, order and protection of all the regions under them…

Sophia trashed the notification and was just about to return to her magazine article, when a sudden tremor shook the entire hotel so violently that she fell off the bed, landing on the carpeted floor in a tangle of sheets.

"Wha- what in the world…?"

The next thing she knew, her room was engulfed in red as a shrill siren penetrated the air.

_Attention all guests. This is an emergency alert. Hyda has been hit by an earthquake of a level 5 magnitude – correction, level 6 – level 7 –_

Sophia blanched. L-Level 7!?

_The cause is unknown. All guests are to remain calm and proceed to the nearest transporter room for evacuation. Due to the state of emergency, all transporters will be directed to Hyda's underground Evacuation Facility. I repeat: All guests –_

Sophia didn't even stick around to hear the rest of the announcement. The tremors were getting progressively worse as she exited the room and dashed down the corridor – or tried to, what with all the shaking – only to stop short, remembering something: Fayt.

That's right; Fayt was still wandering around somewhere. She had to call him, make sure he was all right. Sophia took out her communicator and keyed in a familiar number, only to panic when the device registered her friend as non-contactable. _Oh,_ this was _so_ not the best time for Fayt to leave his communicator switched off. She tried to call him a few more times, but to no avail. Just then, a new number flashed across her screen and she answered it.

" _Sophia? Oh, Sophia, thank goodness you're all right."_ It was Ryoko Leingod.

"Aunt Ryoko," she exclaimed in relief "Yes, I'm fine – do you know where Fayt is?"

The blue-haired woman's face fell in both disappointment and distress. _"Fayt? No, I thought he was with you! I got separated from Robert in all this chaos. I can't contact either of them!"_

A sudden tremor rocked the hotel – more powerful than before – and when Sophia chanced a glance out a nearby window, she did a double-take, eyes widening in horror. No – no, it couldn't be, unless her mind was playing tricks on her and there wasn't _actually_ a massive battleship hovering just behind those clouds… Sophia squinted to get a better look.

'Those colours… and that shape… could it be the Vendeeni!?' she thought to herself, wholly alarmed.

" _Sophia! SOPHIA! Are you still there?"_

Snapping back to the present situation at hand, said girl tried to remain calm as she instructed the frantic mother. "Aunt Ryoko, don't panic. I'm sure Uncle Robert is fine. He's probably making his way to the nearest transporter room as we speak!"

" _But what about Fayt!?"_

Sophia's heart skipped a beat and she closed her eyes momentarily to calm herself down.

'Come on, Sophia. Where will that moron be… think… think…' Her eyes flew open. Game simulator. That would explain the total absence of signal.

"Aunt Ryoko, I'll see you at the Evacuation Facility!"

" _No, wait, Sophi – "_

Sophia cut the call and raced down in the opposite direction, pushing against the frightened crowd. She was just about to make a turn round the corner, when she felt someone grab her wrist and yank her back so forcefully that she felt the air leave her momentarily. Then, a pair of large arms held her in place and when she looked up, she found herself staring into an equally large bearded face that held a pair of round eyes that shone with concern. Sitting on the giant's shoulder was a little gypsy girl with milky-blonde hair; a green-clad clown stood by his side, face scrunched up in annoyance.

"Nice catch, Ursus!" exclaimed the young girl who looked no older than 15. Her large companion simply gave a nod of acknowledgement. Sophia on the other hand, didn't share their sense of achievement and began to struggle viciously.

"Let go! _Let me go!_ I need to get to the lobby!" The green-clad clown's eyes widened in sheer incredulity from her statement.

"You must be crazy, eh! Didn't you hear the announcement? There's an _earthquake_ happening right under our noses, eh! You got a death wish or something, eh?"

"I know that!" Sophia cried, helpless and afraid. Tears were beginning to gather at the corners of her eyes. "But my friend's in there! You didn't happen to see him, did you? His name's Fayt… h-he has b-blue hair a-and – "

Peppitta's eyes shone with recognition, while Gonnella simply rolled his in frustration. Oh, he _knew_ who Fayt was all right… that little punk. However, personal anger aside, this little lady obviously cared for the boy and he didn't wish to upset her any further. He placed a comforting hand on Sophia's shoulder.

"Hey, there, there… Chin up, eh? If your friend _were_ in there, he would've heard the announcement and left _ages_ ago. I bet he's worrying himself sick about you in the holding area, eh!"

Sophia sniffed and wiped at her tears. "R-Really…?"

Gonnella winked. "Really! Ain't that right, little missy? Ursus?" He turned to look at said duo that grinned and nodded their heads, assertive.

"Yup! We're heading there right now," chimed Peppitta, looking at Sophia kindly. "What's your name? I'm Peppitta!"

"Sophia," she replied softly. Peppitta nodded; it was good enough for her.

"Well, Sophia, come with us! We'll protect you, right Ursus?" The strongman grunted in response and without warning, lifted the surprised brunette effortlessly and placed her on his other shoulder.

Gonella whined as he jogged after them. "Eh! Little missy, what about meeeeee?"

Peppitta stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "Oh, Gonnella, you're no good to me. We _all_ know how useless you are in a fight!"

The clown responded to that jibe with a mischievous smirk. "Well, I'm not useless in everything, eh? If I remember clearly, _somebody_ said that I was good in other ways, eh! Just last night, I believe…"

Gonnella chortled while Peppitta crimsoned. Sophia fidgeted awkwardly on Ursus' shoulder.

Did she even want to know?

* * *

 

Fayt repeatedly slammed the side of his body against the simulator door, but it showed no signs of budging or a hint of damage in the least. When his right side was pretty much bruised and he realized his left side had apparently met a similar fate, he moaned in despair and fell to his knees. So what if he was an AAA-rank player? He was no good without a _real_ sword…

"Someone! Anyone! Help! Is anyone still out there? _Hellooooo!_ "

It was no use. He had been shouting for the past few minutes until his voice got hoarse. Even if anyone _were_ out there, they wouldn't be able to hear him. Game simulators were specifically designed to be 100% sound-proof to ensure users would be able to savor quality and the full gaming experience the battle simulator programme had to offer. This also meant that electronic devices couldn't be used during the gaming phase and in this room so as to not disrupt the players. And to top it all off, due to the extra-special durable properties of a particularly-manufactured alloy used to construct such simulation rooms, it could double up as a shelter resilient to most attacks done by proton cannons, phase guns, and so on.

Normally, all these would satisfy any person or game-enthusiast, like himself… BUT ALL THOSE WERE NO GOOD TO HIM NOW, WERE THEY?

Fayt fished out his communicator and found that nothing had changed; the device was as worthless to him now as it had been 20 minutes ago.

Earlier, he had been in the middle of a regular monster-fight, when he felt the tremors of an earthquake before the announcement came on. Of course, the game had been automatically terminated in light of the disaster. Before he could instruct the computer to supply him with more information and a video-feed of what was occurring outside Hyda IV however, the power had been cut, causing an instantaneous shut-down of the entire system. Thus, leaving him in his current situation, ultimately and hilariously, trapped.

Fayt pulled his knees up to his chest, a contemplative frown crossing his face. If anyone happened to walk in and see him right now, they would've been surprised at his sudden state of calmness. Hell, even _he_ surprised himself at his insane level of calmness. But something was nagging at him – had been nagging at him since the very start of the earthquake.

'I _still_ don't get it,' he rationalized mentally 'Hyda IV is a stable world of no tectonic activity. There shouldn't be any earthquakes.'

He sighed in resignation and buried his head in his arms. Again, he questioned himself on exactly what part of this holiday entailed the idea of 'fun'. Then, he began an intense speculation on today's misfortunes and concluded that he was either the unluckiest person in the entire universe, or there really was a god out there who truly hated him. Finally, he felt his soul and heart sink amidst the waves in a sea of quiet desolation.

Was he going to die? To waste away from starvation, dehydration, or get crushed by the ultimate effects of the earthquake? Where were Sophia and his parents now? Were they worried? Were they still looking for him? Or were they – no, he mustn't think that; he _wouldn't_ even go there.

"Mom… dad… Sophia… be safe…" Fayt whispered into the silence of his prison. He was scared, yes, but he didn't want his last thoughts to stem from fear. If those guys were all right and alive, that was enough.

He found it ironic really; that his own death would be in the very hands of the one thing he loved the most. Everyone did say that games would be the death of him one day…

Fayt's inner musings were interrupted however, when he heard a loud banging coming from the doors – someone was on the other side! An immense sense of relief and ecstasy washed over him as he practically flew to the door, only to yell and jump back in dreaded awe when a _human_ fist penetrated the barrier and almost gutted him in the stomach. Fayt blinked comically and could only stare at the hand dumbly, before another joined it to pry the wall of Fayt's prison open just as easily as one might part a curtain.

"Yo! You alright, kid?"

Fayt gave another yell and pointed at the new comer, flabbergasted.

" _YOU!"_

He couldn't believe it. There he was, as plain as day: the same guy who pissed him off, who was also the guy who offered compensation for his ill-conduct, and the very guy who was rescuing him now. Fayt felt extremely confused. Who _was_ this guy? Was he stalking him or something? How did he know he was trapped here? Did he even know in the first place? Why would be literally tear apart this room if he didn't? What race was he? Why was he concerned about him? And why wasn't he screaming bloody-murder and running for safety like the others?

His mouth must have been hanging open, because the blonde bellhop was giving him a weird look. If he weren't in shock, Fayt would've laughed.

"That's getting kinda old, don't you think?" said the blonde man with a smirk.

"H-How did you find me? How did you even know I was here?"

"Simple. That keycard I gave you had a built-in tracker."

When Fayt looked like he was about to say something – to ask _why_ the guy would even want to track him in the first place, said guy grabbed his arm and hushed him.

"Save it, kid. I hate to break a nice reunion as much as any other person, but we gotta' get out of here!"

Fayt nodded vigorously and the two rushed out of the lobby, sprinting straight down the corridors. Debris lay on all sides and there were large gaping holes in the ceiling; shattered glass was strewn everywhere. The blonde yelled over his shoulder at a panting Fayt who was trying to keep up with his long strides. "All the transporters have been jammed to ensure the safety of all those people in the evacuation facility. We'll have to escape another way."

"How? Where?" Fayt asked in alarm. As far as he knew, the hotel transporters were the only way to get from one location to another.

"My ride's waiting for me – about time too," replied the blonde curtly. "Took the Eagle a while to get through all that scuffle, but everything's good to go!"

Fayt was about to ask what he meant exactly by 'scuffle' – after all, ships wouldn't be affected by land disasters like earthquakes – but thought it better to clarify things later when they were out of harm's way.

"Hey… Clyde, was it?" Fayt ventured unsurely "Thanks."

The man called Clyde only shook his head.

"Kid… don't thank me just yet."

* * *

 

They were beamed aboard Clyde's ship, the Eagle, and least to say, Fayt was _very_ impressed. Not only was it larger compared to most simple transport ships, but the insides were solid, equipped with the latest navigation and defense systems, not to mention stocked with large quantities of food supplies, medical supplies, and… were those ammunition chambers!?

Hold on just a second.

"Clyde, is this a- a _battle cruiser!?_ " Fayt questioned the man who was lounging comfortably on one of the seats.

"Um, yeah, I guess you could say that," he replied, scratching the back of his head.

Fayt's eyes narrowed. "You stole it, didn't you?"

Clyde jumped up at that comment, feeling slightly offended. "Hey, a little faith in me wouldn't kill you, would it?"

Fayt felt more than inclined to punch the cocky guy in the face.

"I don't know, you tell _me!_ " he answered back hotly. "Who _are_ you, anyway – really? And what exactly is _'the Eagle'?_ Why did you place a tracker on me? Do you honestly expect me to believe you're just a normal bellhop after all _this_? Are you taking me to my parents and Sophia? Are they all right?"

" _Woah!_ Slow down, kid, take it easy!" Clyde held up his hands in a pathetic attempt to placate the situation. "One at a time, one at a time – he straightened up – Ok, first of all, your mother and that girl are safe. They're being transported to Remote Station #6 as we speak… what?" he paused at the wide smirk that was steadily getting wider, on Fayt's face.

"That was a trick question," said Fayt coolly, his arms folded. "There's no way you could've known that without keeping tabs on them like you did me… You're not very bright, are you?"

The blonde cursed beneath his breath as Fayt took a confident step forward. It felt good to have the upper hand over the guy for once.

"But… since we're on that subject, what about my dad? Shouldn't he be with them? What, you didn't miss him on your radar, did you?"

"Precisely – he was captured by the Vendeeni," came a new voice directly behind Fayt. It sounded wholly female and it didn't occur to Fayt – not even once – that there _had_ to be someone else piloting the ship if Clyde wasn't at the controls.

After recovering from a mini heart-attack, Fayt braced himself and turned around; the sight which greeted him stole his breath away. The woman who stood before him was – in the ultimate sense – incredibly beautiful, with high cheekbones set on a lovely, perfectly chiseled face, kissable rose-red lips, and a pair of twinkling, chocolate-brown eyes that seemed to hide a great pool of wisdom that her youthful features betrayed. Her hair was the same shade of blonde as Clyde's and long side-bangs framed her face delicately; the rest of her hair was tied up in a long plait; and if Fayt didn't know any better, he would have thought them to be related. In contrast to her demure and feminine face, the woman had on a peculiar dark green militaristic getup, complete with ankle-high combat boots and gauntlets. However, the overall air of elegance and grace still settled about her in spite of her rugged attire.

"Hi, it's nice to finally meet you, Fayt." She smiled at him kindly and Fayt could feel the beginnings of a blush settle over his cheeks.

'She's beautiful…' was all his brain seemed to know at this point. Clyde chuckled when he saw the boy staring at his partner.

"Careful. Don't go falling for her now," he warned with a hint of amusement. "She's a Klausian, so don't be fooled by her looks. She'd pummel you a hundred times over before you even realize what you did wrong."

Fayt turned to glare at Clyde. "Who said anything about falling for her?" Then, he remembered something and turned back to face the woman. "Wait – _how do you know my name?_ "

The female merely chuckled in response and turned her attention to her partner. "I see you haven't told him yet, Cliff."

_Cliff?_

"… _WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"_ Fayt finally exploded. "And for the _last_ time, _who are you!?_ "

Clyde – Cliff – whatever his name was, simply grunted in response and rose to his feet. "Give me a second, will you?"

He pressed a button on a device attached to his wrist and immediately the beige bellhop attire disintegrated to be replaced with a form-fitting male version of the outfit the woman had on. The uniform did better justice than the old staff attire, showing off all the blonde's muscles – especially those of his arms – and fitting him in all the right places. With the first few buttons of his top undone, Fayt could see the strange black tattoo around the man's neck more clearly; and then he realized why the sight of it had bothered him so much before. Earlier, this guy had said that his partner was a Klausian…

Fayt gasped. It all made sense now.

"Y-You guys are Klausians," stuttered Fayt who had lost all shred of confidence at this point. He began to back away cautiously.

"Klausians have always resisted the Pangalactic Federation and are considered a high-level threat because – because…"

Fayt couldn't bring himself to go on. He didn't like his position. Cliff sensed the boy's unease and decided that since the cat was already out of the bag, he might as well start filling the poor kid in. He pointed at himself with his thumb.

"Let's start over. The _real_ name's Cliff Fittir. And that – he pointed at his partner – is Mirage Koas: my chief navigator, pilot and partner-in-crime. We're agents from Quark," he finished smugly all the while staring at the silent teen. "Does that answer your first question?"

Fayt gulped and adverted his eyes. He knew it: that tattoo _had_ been an insignia for Klausians; and when Klausians were involved, the influence of Quark wasn't that far behind.

Quark was an anti-Federation organization based on Klaus III, which would explain why its members consisted of mainly Klausians – a race of extremely physical-impressive people possessing an unparalleled strength that far outstrip those of Earthlings. This was mainly due to their planet's harsh gravity that contributed to their level of high physical endurance. In recent years, Quark had expanded its reach exponentially, so much so that neither the Pangalactic Federation nor the Klausian government could afford to ignore it any longer. Quark had made it its sworn duty to rally forces that desired independence and true autonomy from the Federation, in order to win complete self-rule.

"S-So… this – the Eagle, you called it? – It's a Klausian battle ship."

"'Atta boy! Not too difficult figuring things out on your own, aye?" joked Cliff, but his carefree attitude didn't have any effect on the disoriented Fayt, who was desperately trying to comprehend the complexities of his situation.

"But I don't get it!" Fayt exclaimed, shaking his head. "Why would Quark want to track me? And what would the Vendeeni want with my dad? Aren't they in the middle of a war with the Aldian Empire?" And then he realized something else. "That earthquake… it was a planned Vendeeni invasion, wasn't it?"

Sure, he got that part down; but the whole idea didn't make any logical sense to him. Hyda IV was under Federation rule, yes, while Vendeen constantly refused Federation assistance; but there were no open hostilities… What had prompted their attack?

Cliff sighed and looked to Mirage for some help, but the female merely shook her head and returned to the controls, disengaging autopilot. Cliff sulked. Some help _she_ was…

'Argh, might as well give him the whole story,' thought Cliff reluctantly, before launching into explanations starting from the beginning.

As part of his mission, he was engaged by Quark to slip into Hyda IV and keep an eye on both Dr. Leingod and his son. Of course, being part of an anti-Federation organization had its drawbacks and he had to… blend in – which Fayt then realized why Cliff was so _bad_ at his job as a bellhop – Quark had anticipated a Vendeeni strike on the planet but unfortunately, due to Fayt holding a higher priority over Dr. Leingod, Vendeeni soldiers had gotten to him before Cliff could. As far as he knew, Dr. Leingod's capture had nothing to do with Federation-Vendeen relations. It was a direct and independent assault based on personal interests… whatever those were.

"So you see, I was supposed to abduct you." Cliff concluded, a little too lightly for Fayt's taste.

"You say it as if it were a good thing! And – " Fayt paused mid-rant when he noticed on the navigation panel that they were traveling on an unknown course. That, and he was sure Remote Station #6 was in the _opposite_ direction, like a gazillion miles off.

"What – Where are you taking me!?"

"To our rendezvous point, of course!" Cliff had moved to his post next to Mirage and buckled himself in. He gave a flabbergasted Fayt a pointed look and indicated with his eyes at the remaining seat at the back.

"I suggest you do the same."

His voice had taken on an uncharacteristic air of authority that left Fayt no room for argument. Without much choice, he strapped himself in; but that didn't mean the entourage of questions stopped.

"… Why?" It was more of a statement of resignation than a question.

"Our leader wants to speak with you," said Cliff matter-of-factly. It irked Fayt how the blonde could be so easygoing after all the action and drama that had unfolded back on Hyda IV.

"But why does Quark's leader want to see me? _I'm just a college student from Earth!"_ he knew he was beginning to sound hysterical, but he didn't care. He had every right to be. This entire day was turning _insane_!

"Uh… because our leader wants… to chat with you?"

Fayt was totally unconvinced.

"Nice try, but that's avoiding the question!"

"Hey, I don't know! I just do as I'm told!"

Cliff sighed when all he received in return was spine-numbing death glare.

"Look, there's no use resisting us. Your dad was captured by the enemy. I don't think the three of us are in any position to resist an entire planet's military force." His reasoning was beginning to get through to Fayt, so he saw it as a good sign to continue.

"I don't know _everything_ , but our leader might. There's no harm speaking to her, find out what she wants, and maybe we can all go rescue your dad after, huh? Sound good?"

There was a pause, before Fayt nodded.

"Good. Now toss over your communicator, would you?"

Fayt did just that, only to gaze on astounded, when Cliff simply crushed it with his bare hand. Then he threw Fayt a new one.

"Can't have the Vendeeni tracking you down, can we?" Cliff raised a finger just when Fayt opened his mouth. "And before you ask, I. Don't. Know. Just save your questions for our leader."

"But – "

"I swear, if you ask _one more_ question, I'll comatose you for the rest of this journey!"

Fayt's mouth snapped shut instantly, but couldn't hold back a snicker when Mirage reached across from where she sat and yanked hard at her partner's ear. If nothing else, it was amusing seeing her getting the best of the huge, muscular man. Absently, he thought about his similar relationship with Sophia… well, except that Mirage was a whole lot more mature and beautiful, not to mention devoid of the skill of nagging one to death.

Also, he was pretty sure Mirage could whip him in a fight in about two point seven seconds flat.

"Honestly Cliff, stop trying to scare the boy. You know you can't pick up a house anymore than you can beat me in a fight."

"Hey, I'll have you know – "

"Hold that thought," she interrupted, running her fingers over the ship's controls. She remained oblivious to the strangling gestures Cliff was doing behind her back.

"False alarm. You were saying, Cliff?" A hint of amusement entered her voice.

"BAH! Forget it," Cliff rose from his seat "I'm going to take a shower. Buzz me up if you run into any problems."

"Roger." She shifted screens and paused. "Cliff… I _think_ you can forget about that shower."

"What now?" the blonde complained as he turned around to face her.

She entered a few complicated commands on the controls. "It seems we have a few Vendeeni ships on our tail. Expanding parameters."

A large map of their current location expanded across the viewing screen. The large yellow arrow in the middle indicated their position and the few tiny red dots catching up at the rear signaled approaching hostilities.

Cliff slammed a fist on the control panels. " _Damn it!_ They must have picked up on his signal earlier than expected. Mirage, power the gravitic warp engines. Let's lose these clowns."

"Roger. Entering gravitic warp in three seconds."

* * *

 

Cliff reclined in his seat, but a playful glint entered his eyes and he couldn't resist checking up on their "hostage".

"Yo, how're you holding up?"

A red-faced Fayt used that opening to let the dim-witted Klausian have it.

" _YOU COULD'VE WARNED ME BEFORE PULLING A STUNT LIKE THAT!"_

Cliff pulled back from the force of that yell, taken aback. He then proceeded to make an attempt (a rather sad one at that) to defend himself.

"Well – she _did_ say three seconds…"

" _That's not what I meant and you know it!"_ Fayt closed his eyes and counted to 10, doing his best to calm himself. He did _not_ want to risk bursting a blood vessel because of _him_. The blonde was hardly worth it.

"You guys may be used to all this, but I'm not."

Cliff hummed thoughtfully, then nodded.

"Ok! I'll tell you – We're going to warp again! We probably lost them; so let's resume our course. Mirage?"

Fayt scrambled to get a good grip on the armrests.

"Now wait just a – "

"Entering gravitic warp."

" _CLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFFFFFFFFFF!"_

* * *

 

"Yo, looking good, kid?"

Fayt held up a hand in surrender.

"Don't – Just don't talk to me."

"Ok!"

"I hate to spoil the fun, but we've got a problem," said Mirage gravely, wiping the viewing screen clear of navigation charts to reveal the view of an endless space in front of them. Cliff scratched his head, confused.

"Uh, Mirage? I don't see… anything."

Said woman ignored his observation, even more preoccupied with the controls than before. Just looking at her, Fayt, suffice to say, didn't really like where things were progressing.

"Sensors are picking up high levels of proton energy approximately 203.72 kilometers up ahead. I'm honing in on the signal. Screen on!"

Upon zooming in on the target location, the three of them were greeted by the sight of the entire Vendeeni battalion all lined up and ready to engage in a full-scale, all-out attack. Cliff collapsed onto his seat, immersed in his thoughts, while Fayt felt his heart plummet straight down into an abyss of no return. There was no way they were going to survive this one; and as soon as he thought that, the enemy commenced fire.

"Deploying power to shields."

The Eagle rocked from the impact of the blasts, with most of them just grazing the ship's exterior – but for who knows how long. Cliff swore colourfully, but still made no move to give any new commands. After what felt like an eternity to Fayt, Cliff finally sat up, a new wave of conviction rushing over him.

"Mirage, power normal engines and reverse, then engage gravitic warp."

"But Cliff, our gravitic engines have taken a huge hit. We won't be able to enter gravitic warp. Also, there's not enough power left in the conventional engines as I transferred most of it to our shields. If we disengage the shields and burn the Eagle's last source of power by heading back, and then fail to enter gravitic warp… we'll die."

How Mirage managed to say all that so calmly as if conversing about the weather, was beyond Fayt. He didn't really catch the whole front part, but he _definitely_ heard the word "die" and that was bad enough for him.

Suddenly, a few more enemy ships appeared on the radar behind them. Mirage's typing was frantic.

"This isn't good. They've got more ships blocking our escape. We can't go back."

'Great, an ambush…' Cliff thought to himself in frustration. He contemplated other options; he called up a map of the area on the computer.

"There are a few planets around here," he spoke calmly "We'll have to sit tight until we can warp again. Hopefully we'll get near one when we do."

"Don't you mean _if_ we do?" Fayt interjected anxiously. "And what about the Universal Preservation Pact? So what if we get out of this alive? We'll violate Federation law if we make contact with inhabitants from an Underdeveloped planet!"

"You got any better ideas!?"

Cliff resisted the urge to beat the living daylights out of the boy. The UP3 was hardly any source of concern at this point. Seriously, if he wasn't ordered to protect him…

As the Eagle continued taking more hits, Mirage took a deep breath before turning to look at her partner.

"Cliff, shields are down to 37%... what will you do?"

Cliff shot her an annoyed look. "The same thing I said, only this time we don't go back, but forward. It's risky… but I don't see any other choice. We'll just have to outmaneuver them until we can warp."

"But gravitic warp – "

"Will work," he finished, a confident smirk on his lips. "Relax, Mirage. I'm not one for praying, but I got a hunch things will turn out fine."

Ambush or no ambush, Fayt felt like getting up and whacking Cliff upside the head.

 _A hunch?_ A hunch was hardly going to save them! Why was he entrusting his life to this moron again? Oh right, because he had no choice – _like how he was going to die before 20!_

Mirage continued to stare at Cliff evenly. "… We can only afford a maximum of four hits. I hope you understand that."

Cliff nodded and when Mirage finally dropped her stare, she was back on autopilot once more.

"Powering down shields. Transferring all remaining power to normal engines. Changing course."

Cliff turned to wink at a nervous Fayt. "Feeling lucky, kid?"

"L-Lucky!?"

The blonde ignored him and punched the air with his fist. "All right, let's blow this joint!"

Mirage turned to Fayt, a small smile on her face. "I hope you don't get airsick easily."

"Uh, no, not really…"

If her question didn't scare him, then the widening of her smile sure did.

"Good, because this is going to be one bumpy ride of your life. Here come the disrupter canons."

That was Fayt's only warning as the Eagle turned on its side, narrowly escaping the beam. One beam. From one canon. From only one out of a dozen other ships – eh, you get the drift.

"Conventional engines are down to 27% capacity!" Mirage flicked some switches above her head and strapped herself in extra tight. Her grips on the controls tightened.

"It's going to be close, guys… They're firing again." She turned to look at Cliff. "Your hunch better be right."

The Eagle closed in on the objective point, Mirage doing her best to dodge the multiple fires from the Vendeeni forces. None of them knew what would happen, but even Cliff said a prayer in his heart for the gods he didn't believe in. Suddenly, a loud charged-up sound filled the bridge and to the three of them, they never heard sweeter music.

"Warp engines back online! Activating gravitic warp in 5 – "

The Eagle gave a violent shudder.

"4 – "

They braced themselves.

"3 – "

Cliff clenched the armrests tighter.

"2- "

Mirage's fingers shook.

"1!"

Fayt shut his eyes.

And then a bright light exploded around them, the Eagle pitching forward through a vortex, before spitting them back out into the darkness of space. That had been one heck of a close call, but at least they were safe. After the warp, Mirage checked the Eagle's status, noting for damages. The two men remained in their seats, doing their best to calm their rapidly beating hearts.

"Well this puts a beat-down on our schedule," grumbled Cliff "Looks like we'll have to keep her waiting."

Mirage nodded in agreement. "I'm afraid so. We lost the ships, but we're a long way off from the rendezvous point – Oh, but _this_ isn't good…" Mirage said suddenly, trailing off with a sigh.

"What's that?" Cliff asked, already dreading the worst. When Mirage said something wasn't good, it _really_ wasn't good. She didn't take her eyes off the screen as various statistics ran by.

"The warp engines overheated, and the conventional and backup engines have been shot. If we don't land soon, we'll crash."

The two males' eyes widened, and Fayt wondered how she could still be so calm through all this. He didn't know who was crazier: joy rider Cliff, or poker-face Mirage… then again, they were both Klausians so Fayt figured they were equally worth the part.

"Please tell me there's good news…" said Cliff in a half-moan.

"Well, the good news is that we're in Elicoor II's gravitational field – "

 _Elicoor?_ Wasn't that the system his school project was currently jammed at? Fayt straightened up and reached for said device – his project – in his pocket and proceeded to quickly read up as much as he could about the planet. Apparently, the planet consisted of only two main continents: Gaitt and Greeton, which were located in the Southern Hemisphere, while the Northern Hemisphere had a number of island chains, but no continents.

"Hey guys, look at this," said Fayt as he motioned for the two Klausians.

Cliff whistled. "Nifty device. Pretty handy since our database got fried. Where'd you get it?"

Fayt shrugged. "School project. Anyway, other than the fact that most of its atmosphere is composed of neon, Elicoor II has an atmospheric composition similar to that of Earth. Its axial tilt is 32.6°, it's 0.8 Aus from its star, and has a surface gravity of 0.9 G."

Cliff nodded. "Sounds good so far."

"But the planet's technology level is estimated to be equivalent to 17th century Earth."

"I take that all back."

Fayt read the last bit. "Although this planet is registered in the Galactic Atlas as an underdeveloped planet, there is no data available for the total population of sentient life forms as its people are in a constant… state of war…" Fayt trailed off, not liking the last part. He didn't feel particularly good entering a new hostile environment after having escaped a previous one.

"Great, just great," Cliff muttered, slumping in his seat. He slammed his fist harshly on the armrest in irritation. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Then, he turned to face Mirage. No point delaying the inevitable. All he could do was take things in stride.

"How long until we enter the planet's orbit?" Mirage shot him a half-smile, before returning to her seat and tightening her safety belt.

"30 seconds. Now I suggest you boys do the same. It's going to be a bumpy ride."

Fayt hadn't known her for more than an hour, but at the word 'bumpy' and after experiencing all _that_ a few minutes ago, he needn't be told twice.

It was official – there was nothing _fun_ about this vacation, it completely lacked the whole definition of fun, and just when he thought the nightmare was all over, Fayt found it steadily progressing into hellish, vile reality.

* * *

 

It was winter in Airyglyph as snow fell upon the rooftops and roads of the royal city. However, no wintry beauty could compare to brilliance hailing from the other side of the galaxy. A bright blaze lit up the sky for all of Airyglyph to see as a strange, unknown, metallic contraption plummeted to the ground, crashing into solid brick and tearing up cobblestones before it screeched to a halt. A large crowd gathered around the fearsome object – peasants and nobles alike – watching in awe as it crackled and surged with such _fascinating_ power.

Whispers penetrated the wintry silence as the people remarked of this divine entity. Could it perhaps be the work of their enemy, Aquaria? Was this technology a new Aquarian weapon? It definitely looked malevolent enough – it must've hailed from them!

"You! Out of the way!"

The crowd gasped and shuffled away in fear at the presence of the King's army. They didn't want to stand in the way of his majesty's conquest.

Unbeknownst to them, high up on the rooftops, a red-head woman scrutinized the wreckage and alien object, experiencing a whole different set of feelings compared to these people. This was a sign – a sign for change. If she could get her hands on it – on the people who piloted that thing, Aquaria could finally put an end to this war, and then...

And then she could see him again.

A surge of determination overcame her as she leapt across roofs towards the outskirts of the city. She had some arrangements to make. _Then_ she'd proceed to phase two.

* * *

 

Even further past the kingdom of Airyglyph, past Aquarian territory, another city stood – a picturesque little village that marked the beginnings of vast, yet peaceful lands of the Sanmite Rebublic. After having witnessed the bright red light that fell from the sky, a young Menodix boy grinned and tipped his helm back, never once taking his gaze off the sky.

"Heh heh… About time the stars answered! Yahoo! Time ta' go!"

He clambered down the roof of the village inn and slipped into his bedroom through an open window. The house was pitch-black, his parents and guests all sound asleep. Moving around on tip-toe, the small child dragged out a yellow knapsack that looked slightly too big for him and began shoving in various objects he might require for his journey. Grabbing his trusty axe which lay by the window sill, the Menodix was about to break for it when he spotted a string of Palmira flowers from his unfinished wishing charm.

His eyes softened at the sight for all it represented, all it meant to him, and he placed it carefully into his bag without a moment's hesitation. As soon as he rose to his feet however, the glow of candlelight vanquished the darkness and he found himself gazing up into the disappointed and furious eyes of the village innkeeper, chieftain, and also his father.

"For the last time, Roger S. Huxley, you are _not_ allowed to leave this village!" The older male boomed, uncaring if he awoke his wife or guests.

"But pops, ya saw that thing," Roger whined, resisting the urge to throw a tantrum. He was twelve-and-a-half years old, a big man, and he would not use tears to garner people's affections… unless he was desperate.

"I _gotta_ go check it out! It landed in the direction of Airyglyph, and Nel's there! Remember her? We haven't heard from her since the war started. I _have_ to make sure she's all right! I just have'ta!"

A flicker of emotion flashed across Huxley Senior's eyes at the mention of the Aquarian woman's name, but it disappeared as quickly as it entered and an unrelenting frown took its place.

"Roger, how many times have I told you – told everyone? No one is allowed to leave Surfeiro!" He punctuated each word with a jab at his son's chest.

"If you leave this village and cross the boarders to Aquarian _or_ Airyglyph territory, if they _see_ you, you'll be signaling to those nations the Sanmite Republic's participation in their war. This is why we've closed our doors to the surrounding regions for months."

"But by cuttin' ourselves off, we're givin' them one less place for their soldiers ta' heal," Roger argued back, angry tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He will not cry, _he will not cry._

Weren't their folk known for, respected for their unbiased hospitality? Years ago, during the Aquor-Greeton war, the Sanmite Republic fought alongside Airyglyph and Aquaria against the Greeton-superpower, brothers-in-arms all three of them. Sure, it wasn't their fight this time, but Roger didn't understand why his nation decided to _completely_ turn their back against their own people by adopting a stand of non-involvement.

"Their actions are none of our concern, Roger. They called for war and we didn't."

"But – "

" _They know our position in this fight!"_

Huxley Senior let out a long breath.

"And I think… it is time you knew yours."

Suddenly, a sharp whistling pierced through the nighttime silence, ending off with rumbling explosion. At the sound of its proximity, it was probably coming from Melt's hut. Senior Huxley sighed in exasperation and trudged out to take care of the problem. That whole family was always up to something weird… if only his son and theirs weren't so close…

Roger snickered. "Better late than never, Melt!"

He'd had to seriously thank his friend for his foresight. He grabbed his stuff.

"Sorry, pops, but I already knew my position a _loooong_ time ago."

Tucking his ears completely into his helm and tying a sash around his waist to conceal his tail, Roger snuck off and made a break for the Trading Town of Peterny as fast as his little legs could carry him. He had a long way to go before he would arrive at Airyglyph, but he was _a real man;_ he could do it, no sweat... Although seeing as it was late, he probably ought to find a place to stay first - wait, that would require money, wouldn't it?

Maybe he should have given this whole plan a little more thought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, everything - or rather everyone - is coming together.
> 
> This chapter was slightly longer than the last one to make up for its shortness.
> 
> Read and review please.


	4. Frost in the Fireplace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Albel finally makes an appearance in this chapter and I admit it was awfully fun to write for him.
> 
> Disclaimer: Star Ocean: Till the End of Time and all of it's characters belong to Square Enix. If I did own it, Albel, Nel and Roger would be mandatory party members, and Adray wouldn't even exist.

Cliff Fittir was a tolerable person. He may not look the part, but he was; and he prided himself on his ability to keep a good head on his shoulders and remain cool and calm when most situations called for it. Mostly easygoing, Cliff was no serious type, but he knew he could be… sometimes. He may not be the most patient person in the universe – much less in Klaus – but he figured he was decent enough and could control his temper in light of most things… except one.

"… insane! We can't make contact with the inhabitants of an underdeveloped planet. It's clear-cut violation of the UP3! I don't care if we have to stay here until help arrives - certain boundaries shouldn't be crossed."

He knew he should have knocked the kid out when he had the chance. To think he was going to be stuck baby-sitting this UP3-freak… He stared at Mirage's jacket that was draped innocently over her seat. He wondered if he could smolder himself to death with it.

"And also – "

"Man, what a square!" Cliff yelled, temporarily shocking Fayt into silence.

‘ _Finally!_ ’ he thought to himself. He turned to regard the teen with a critical eye.

"Look, I hate to break it to you, but we've kind of _made_ contact – rather forcefully anyway."

"Yeah, but still…" Fayt trailed off, glancing up at the ship's monitors to see the crowd of fearful civilians and hostile-looking armored soldiers standing outside.

As much as he hated the thought of violating Federation protocol, Cliff did have a point. Besides, a _giant_ ship crashed in the middle of a _city_. That was pretty darn hard to ignore and Fayt seriously doubted life would be the same for these people ever again.

Fayt's frown relaxed as he faced Cliff, expression thoughtful. "What do you think they'd do once we're outside?"

Cliff shrugged. "Eh, probably take us prisoner I guess."

Fayt immediately regretted asking the blonde for his opinion.

"You say it as if you don't really care!"

"You got any better ideas then!?"

"Enough you two, now's not the time to get riled up," said Mirage, ever the voice of reason.

Cliff smirked. "Yeah, Fayt. Shut up."

"That includes you, Cliff."

"What did I do?"

Fayt rolled his eyes. Really? Was this guy supposed to be older than him? He hardly felt safe entrusting his life to him, much less bear the thought of sticking with him longer than necessary.

"Anyway," said Cliff, directing his attention to Fayt once again, "I have a hunch they won't kill us just yet, so – "

" _Another_ one of your hunches?"

Mirage couldn't agree more. "How about that time we nearly crashed into that asteroid because of a… hunch?"

"Hey, have some faith in your captain, would you?" defended Cliff, disappointed by his colleague and charge's responses. Honestly, he wasn't _that_ unreliable… was he? Being the right-hand man of Quark's leader had to account for _something_ right?

"Besides, I made that call and got us out of that scrape back there – he looked at Fayt – didn't I?" Then he turned to Mirage. "And that was _one_ time!"

"One time." Fayt repeated, voice laden with doubt.

Mirage smiled at him and shook her head, signaling Fayt to drop it and let the man go. Fayt sighed and gave in, again asking himself what choice did he have? He muttered a soft and reluctant, "Fine…"

"What are your orders, Cliff?" said Mirage, turning to face him. Cliff punched a fist into an open palm as he grinned.

"Simple: we get up and get out; but only you and I will leave, kid. With the both of us out, no one would suspect that another one's still inside." He looked at Fayt to ensure the teen was following him, before directing his full attention to his partner. "Mirage?"

"Yes, Cliff?" she smiled sweetly at him.

"You stay here and wait until nightfall, then leave under the cover of darkness. Go find someplace safe and try to contact the Diplo. If we don't show up after _this_ long, she'd expect a distress signal."

Mirage nodded, affirmative, her smile slowly turning into a cheeky grin.

"Need me to come rescue you?" she giggled when Cliff shot her an irritated stare.

"Nah," he waved her off, "that'll be too much of a hassle. We'll find a way to escape somehow, no sweat. You just concentrate on your mission."

"Roger."

During all of this, Fayt remained silent, dubious. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Did Cliff actually expect Mirage, a woman, to fend for herself in such a tight spot, weaponless and on an unfamiliar planet with backdated technology? If things went wrong, the soldiers would be all over her once spotted; and it wasn't exactly difficult to spy a blonde head emerging from such a heavily guarded object.

"Well, time to go! You ready, kid?"

"But Mirage – all alone? Cliff I – "

But Cliff was faster, anticipating Fayt's concern.

"Hey, you're forgetting, she's a _Klausian_ ," he reassured, chuckling. "I pity the guard who'd dare go up against her."

That same sweet smile never left Mirage's face. She flexed her fingers and cracked her knuckles.

"Just so."

* * *

 

Within the royal castle of Airyglyph and seated around the conference table, the three captains of the respective military branches gathered to await the orders from their king. They were all summoned from their posts, and upon being informed of the latest event which occurred in the main city mere hours ago, were left baffled and momentarily speechless. After all, it wasn't every day that strange objects fell from the sky like stars.

None of the three captains knew what it was for certain, but they were inclined to believe that it hailed from their enemy, Aquaria. However, that speculation was tough to validate, especially since Glyphian troops had invaded that kingdom's border town of Arias recently – laid most of it to waste actually – and stumbled upon no such weapon or developments of its production. Nevertheless, it still proved a major cause for concern.

Airyglyph's ruler lifted his gaze to address his three captains.

"Gentlemen, I must thank you for your swift response upon such short notice. But, I'm sure you must agree with me that this matter takes precedence."

Arzei paused to observe his trusted three, all of whom remained silent, no doubt accessing the situation and contemplating the next likely course of action. He turned to his most trusted advisor and Captain of the Storm Brigade, wishing nothing more than for the old count to impart his wisdom upon him. It mattered not if the wise one's explanations expanded merely on theory.

"What say you, Woltar?"

Count Woltar hummed as he folded his hands across the table. In his age, unlike his fellow captains, he wore deep violet robes instead of armor. Snow-white brows upon a face seasoned with age and experience moved into a contemplative frown. The old captain did his best to analyze and organize his points of elucidation. Finally, he cleared his throat and met his king's eyes.

"That I wholly agree, your majesty." He spoke slowly and clearly. "But recent reports from my soldiers indicate two individuals found inside that peculiar mechanism. Judging by the foreign material and style of their clothes, it is logical to conclude that they are from neither Airyglyph nor Aquaria, that I am certain."

Arzei was astounded. "There were people inside that machine?"

Woltar nodded. "Correct: two to be exact – both male. I believe they were piloting it, like how one would fly a dragon or ride a horse. However…" he trailed off as if unconfident. The king stared at him imploringly.

"Woltar, speak, please. You have my word that your theories will face no scorn from my person," Arzei urged to which Woltar relented.

"It is their technology, my lord. It baffles me. Never in all my years of study, have I come across such an astounding construct. Aquarians have never possessed such knowledge and so, I am inclined to wonder if the two strangers are of Aquarian blood or not…"

Seated across from Count Woltar, Duke Vox, Airyglyph's highest ranked official and Captain of the Dragon Brigade, snorted in discontent. Suffice to say, he was unimpressed by his fellow operative's poor excuse of an explanation. Wolatar's words, above all else, lacked conviction expected from the kingdom's most senior militant. Furthermore, the old man had claimed the strangers weren't from Aquaria – Preposterous! The war between Airyglyph and Aquaria was at its peak. He believed he'd recognize an attempted enemy invasion when he saw one.

To expand on his views, he was well aware that the only kingdom that had access to such sophisticated levels of technology was Greeton. Centuries ago, Aquor and Greeton met in a violent clash that had resulted in the permanently severed ties between the two kingdoms. Aquor had fallen to the technological superpower, Greeton's steel humanoid machines of fire defeating them mercilessly. The loss had resulted in the splitting of Aquor into Airyglyph, Aquaria, and the Sanmite Republic. However, Greeton had closed itself off from the world for centuries, proving that there was no way the strangers could have hailed from there. This only left one more highly improbable possibility and that was the elusive Sanmite Republic.

But, even if the members of that nation managed to retain certain technological knowledge from Greeton (centuries before the Republic was established, humanoids maintained friendly ties with the Kingdom of Greeton), Sanmite too had cut themselves off from the rest of Gaitt ever since Airyglyph and Aquaria went into war. Also, the two strangers were clearly not humanoids.

"Nonsense," Vox declared, "that flying contraption came from the direction of Aquaria's royal city. And who's to say they're not Aquarian spies? Humph, believe me, we have plenty of those already."

Woltar said not a word, studying the king’s uncle and revered militant. Arzei was gazing at Vox in fascination at his conclusions, and the latter inwardly reveled in his majesty's attentions. Vox then proceeded to comfort his nephew’s troubled mind and heart.

"Whatever the circumstances may be, the two men are now our prisoners and are being interrogated as we speak. They'd lend us their knowledge and service whether they like it or not. We'd beat them until they squeal."

Woltar frowned, a disagreeable expression on his tired, old features.

"The Inquisitor… Hmm… that man seems to enjoy his job a bit too much…"

"You've grown soft, Woltar. Age has made you weak." Vox sneered at him before he turned to regard Arzei with determined eyes. His voice heightened in steadfast conviction.

"Your majesty, it appears that only _I_ am capable of truly serving you to my full abilities. I will bring glory to this kingdom. I will bring glory to Airyglyph!"

Throughout the discussions, only one out of the four present opted for silence. Albel Nox, Captain of the Black Brigade, did very well to place distance between himself and the current topic of debate. His mind was occupied with a far more pressing yet surprising issue: his informant reported that a humanoid had gone rogue shortly after the strange machine crashed in their city. The individual had reportedly slipped past Surfeiro borders in the direction of Peterny. However, he chose to retain this bit of information from his so-called king until concrete evidence was found – that is, with the humanoid's capture.

Albel had been banking on something like this to happen for months.

Glyphian troops had reached as far as the border town of Arias, making good work of forcing their enemy into a tight spot. Unfortunately, those pious fools fought back with their damned _runology_ , resulting in a temporary retreat. Sure, his kingdom still held an advantage in this war, but it was dragging on _far_ too long for his liking. Why couldn't those weaklings just give in and save him and his men the hassle of slaughtering them all the time? After all, it was much easier to kill the submissive. It didn't waste time and it proved a far quieter process.

But now, things could speed up significantly if he could determine his informant's words…

Humanoids possessed mysterious and natural abilities that differentiated them from others, even from the few Aquarians who could use Runology. They drew their power from nature, a boundless and infinite source of power (unlike those runes, which had to be inscribed into Aquarian skin for anything to work). Most importantly, _all_ humanoids had these skills, making them beneficial, albeit unpredictable allies. If he could get his hands on the rogue humanoid and use him to … _persuade_ the Sanmite ministers on their side, Aquaria would fall and he could finally relax and drink his sake.

Albel's seething gaze would occasionally turn towards Duke Vox whenever that arrogant idiot suggested some unnecessarily complicated battle strategy. A respected figure, uncle to the king, and authoritative and formidable throughout the lands, sure; but Duke Vox was nothing like the late Glou Nox - ex-captain of the Dragon Brigade, superb swordsman and tactician, and also his father.

Albel lowered his gaze to glare resentfully at the layers of metal that fully encased his left arm, the light catching off the claw gauntlet whenever he angled it appropriately. If only he had been stronger, then his father would still…

 _Bah!_ He sickened himself with his sentimentality.

Indeed, Glou Nox had been superb, better than anything this imprudent warmonger could ever live to be. Vox cared not for the lives of his people or for his subordinates for that matter – not that Albel was anything different – but merely did everything in the name of glory. Vox _lived_ for war. Albel on the other hand, felt that this war, this entire conquest itself, was utterly pointless. Vox was only pushing and pushing for all-out dominance in show of his power, to make a statement. He didn’t really care about Airyglyph at all.

He loathed that man - nothing but a despicable worm.

"What are your views on this matter, Albel? I will like to hear from you," said Woltar all of a sudden, directing his gaze to the youngest member of the group.

Vermillion eyes shifted, his grip on his katana tensing. His patience was wearing thin, especially towards the old Woltar. The Storm Brigade captain may be his guardian, but that didn't mean he had to like him. He **did not** want to be here or remain here any longer. Why couldn't everyone just **shut up** and move on? Oh well, might as well add in his two fol.

He smirked as he rested his elbows on the table, propping his chin on his hands as he did so. "If they're the enemy, we kill them. If not, we dispose of them. Simple."

Woltar sighed loudly and shook his head. It seemed that the boy – now a man of 24 years – had yet to change, constantly lingering in the fog of hatred and spite. He remembered that mischievous little boy, who would always run up to him and take his hand, and wondered where that child had gone. Sometimes, more often lately, Woltar wished Glou were still around. Things would be a whole lot more… peaceful.

He faced his charge and spoke, "If only things were as simple as you say, Albel."

"Oh, but they are, old fool," Albel spat. "Everyone's just too _conceited_ – he shot a glare at Vox – to see it."

"Sir Albel, I will not have you disrespecting Duke Vox," Arzei commanded, rising from his seat. "If you have nothing useful to add to our discussion, then please leave."

Albel snorted contemptuously.

"Gladly."

The young captain rose from his position and without so much as a bow or show of respect, left the royal conference chambers, slamming the large mahogany doors shut behind him. Arzei shook his head in disappointment and addressed his advisor.

"Woltar, it will do you good to control your boy better."

Said man leaned back against his chair. "Sire, Albel is not a boy anymore and he has certainly more than proved his worth as master-swordsman and military commander. Besides… " Woltar trailed off sadly with a sigh.

"The only one who is able to control him died nine years ago."

* * *

 

"Lady Nel, look at this!"

Said woman accepted the metallic piece offered by her subordinate, turning it this way and that. The longer she gazed at the intricate circuitry and felt its light-weight, the larger her eyes widened. This… this was _astounding_! To think such material, such possibilities existed; the insights they could offer in the development stage of their secret weapon… She knew she had to get those strange pilots on their side. She couldn't let Airyglyph have them.

"Nice work, Tynave."

"Ma'am." The handsome woman with short, unruly orange hair saluted. "Oh, and Farleen left to hand the second fragment to the Holy Mother. She should be back soon with a wagon."

Nel nodded in acknowledgement. With narrowed eyes she surveyed her surroundings. They were currently standing beyond stonewalls of Airyglyph's kingdom amidst the falling snow. Nel looked to her subordinate, the beautiful brawn of their little group of three.

"I'm going now. If I'm not out in 30 minutes, leave me behind and withdraw."

"But how do you plan on entering the castle? I highly doubt those Glyphian soldiers will let you just walk right in."

Nel frowned and pondered over Tynave's words.

"I'll sneak into the castle dungeons via the Aqueducts and get those men out the same way. Remember: 30 minutes, or our mission is compromised."

"Understood," Tynave replied, but suddenly recalled something and stopped Nel in her tracks. "Lady Nel, wait. A spy was sent to relay an important message to you, but we've yet to hear from her since."

Nel said nothing, but the cool indifference of her stance betrayed the sorrow in her eyes.

"Was the message inscribed?" she clarified.

"I believe so."

"Good. Then the body will be along the way."

Tynave placed a hand over her heart.

"Good luck, ma'am. May the grace of Apris be with you."

Nel returned those wishes before dashing off, heart and mind hardened by duty. There was no room for failure. To fail was to fail her Queen and her people. To fail was to lose the war and the souls of all those sacrificed. And to fail was to hand over an entire kingdom to the hands of Airyglyph's cruel tyranny.

Aquaria was painfully outnumbered, outmatched and alone on this. Their mutual alliance with the Sanmite Republic had come to a close - no help awaited them there. Everything fell on the success of this mission. It was all on her, or nothing.

* * *

 

Albel stormed down the castle corridors, the rigid ferocity of his posture effectively discouraging hopeful, love-struck young maids from crossing his path. A brave brunette had tried her luck, stopping in front of him to attempt a coy smile with her doe eyes, only to lose her confidence altogether after a cold and menacing, " _Move."_ If the wrench hadn't been the king's servant, he would have slit her throat as soon as she dared to obstruct him from his business. The poor maid scurried away as Albel's mood grew darker. _Honestly –_ he **wasn't** interested. Even if many of these girls and boys wouldn't so much as hesitate to throw themselves on him _and_ on his bed, the answer was still **no.**

Oh, Albel knew he was attractive; he didn't need dozens of willing virgins or whores offering to 'warm his bed’ on cold wintry nights to tell him that. He had a good pair of eyes in his skull and a mirror in his room; he did _not_ need their disgusting mewling to convey what was right in front of his own face. Besides, their overconfidence and stupidity was enough to bury any sort of interest he might have had in any one of them.

Albel wasn't a fool; he knew that his position as the Black Brigade Captain and his youth would attract a pool of hopeful suitors, who wished to better their status in society. However, if he, Albel the Wicked _,_ possessed the cruelty and impassivity to slaughter hundreds of men and women, no matter how innocent or good-looking they might have been, what made any of these _stupid_ insects think they stood even a ghost of a chance?

 _Bah_! As if the discussions back in the conference chamber hadn't pissed him off enough.

It would be better for everyone if he weren’t there anyway. Otherwise, he wasn't so sure if he could answer to the accusation of three assassination attempts. Besides, discussing political issues had never been his forte, mainly because the entire matter was rather dull and bothersome, not to mention he paled in comparison to the ‘wisdom’ of old men.

Albel pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Perhaps being the youngest captain of one of Airyglyph's military units had its drawbacks. God forbid if he started to sound like Woltar one day - old, slow and wrinkly like a potato.

The swords-master entertained that last thought a little longer as he continued his journey down the halls and up a flight of stairs. He allowed his feet to lead him back to his sleeping quarters, already so used to the twists and turns of the castle corridors. As he took long and quick strides past the dungeons, the Black Brigade captain could hear the distant whipping of rough leather against flesh. The inquisitor's sadistic laughter and his victim's pained cries pervaded the air; yet Albel walked on, those torturous sounds falling upon ears that had grown much too accustomed to screams. He scaled yet another flight of stairs.

The pains and cries of humanity did not concern him. Besides, if those two foreign captives happened to be real spies, then all the more they should suffer. The enemy had to be annihilated - no exceptions. In fact, he himself had made quick work of another Aquarian spy just this morning. He had been thoroughly bored after breakfast and Woltar's prattling had grated his nerves, so he thought he'd go amuse himself by witnessing that spy's interrogation under the hands of Airyplyh's infamous Inquisitor.

Previously, Woltar had berated him for killing too many Aquarians during the Arias rampage. "If too many are slain, what more will be left under eventual Glyphian rule?" he had said, and that _really_ pissed him off. _No one_ told him what to do. So, he took his anger out on the woman by further torturing her into talking. In fact, he didn't even bother asking any questions. He had simply grabbed some daggers, heated them up, and figured she was probably smart enough to get the message.

However, Aquarians were stupidly devoted to their so-called _god_ and she had remained silent to the death. Suffice to say, Albel had been disappointed - he preferred his victims to beg for their lives at the very least. The silent ones were no fun at all. It had been a complete waste of a good morning.

Then, the king just _had_ to demand his presence in the conference chamber, which did nothing to soothe his anger, if not making it worse. Even now, nestled comfortably in his quarters and downing saucer after saucer of warm sake, Albel was still fuming.

The old fools were wasting their time prattling away over something that already happened and knew nothing of. It wasn't like they needed technological assistance to defeat the enemy; they already held a significant advantage over them. If he were king, he would have seized the opportunity offered by this foreign distraction, and lay claim to Aquaria once and for all. Besides, the longer they sat around and remained complacent, the more Aquarian spies would start filling up the vicinities of their kingdom. Like right now, it didn't take a genius to figure out that there was probably another Crimson Blade assassin on the prowl…

As the sweet alcohol burned a gratifying trail down his throat, Albel decided to brush that matter aside. No point worrying over unnecessary claptrap. He had more important, personal matters to deal with. He knew he was going behind his superiors and king's back with this, but if everything worked out in his favor, he figured a little coercion wouldn't hurt… much. He opened the door and made a grab for a guard stationed outside his room. Albel pulled him up close by the collar, seething down at the frightened man.

"You will relay a message to my second-in-command at the Kirlsa Training Facility," Albel hissed as if he were addressing something disgusting.

"I am leaving Airyglyph to see to other duties. In the meantime, tell that good-for-nothing Shelby to assume responsibility until I return. Oh, and one more thing."

He slammed the unsuspecting, stuttering guard against a nearby wall. The claws of his gauntlet hovered dangerously over his jugular.

"Keep my leave of absence confidential. This goes for Shelby as well. If word gets out, I'll kill you. _Both_ _of you._ "

Albel released the low-rank soldier, who hurried off and then returned to his room to prepare for his upcoming meeting with his informant. The mere thought of leaving the royal city calmed him down significantly. Once he was done with all the necessary preparations, he grabbed the half-empty bottle of sake and moved towards the large window, throwing it open.

Snow continued to descend steadily upon the lands of Airyglyph, freezing pavements and framing windowpanes. As he exhaled, white puffs of vapor escaped the confines of his mouth. The climate was like this all year round; not even the warmth of fireplaces could compensate for the loss of body heat, nor could wrapping oneself in layers upon layers of blankets provide temporary salvation. But, the cold no longer bothered him.

He could see the wrecked, half-buried machine from where he stood and an annoyed scowl crossed his lips. Part of him hoped that the prisoners wouldn't perish under the inquisitor's hands – things had started to become quite interesting upon their arrival – but a bigger part of him hoped they'd beg and grovel to be spared, only to have that wish denied soon after. A conflict between a reprieve from boredom and his favorite hobby – hmm… tough choice.

Albel raised the bottle of sake to his lips, but lowered it immediately, wincing in discomfort. He glared at his gauntlet in annoyance. His arm was starting to hurt again. He grudgingly began to undo a few latches, before gently slipping the metal off, hissing as the edges grazed over bandaged flesh. How long had it been? Nine years? Well, whatever the time frame may be, he knew one thing and one thing alone - it wasn't so much of the physical discomfort that gnawed at his being, but the twinge of guilt hammering relentlessly on his soul.

Albel stared at the bandages wrapped around his arm, the once white bindings having turned a slightly yellow from lack of care. It had been a week since he last changed them. Oh how he hated to carry out this tedious process. Probably because two hands to accomplish such a task would prove to be a whole lot more convenient. His line of vision met charred, raw flesh as he slowly began to undo the wrappings; a flicker of unguarded emotion fleeted past his vermillion gaze. He paused in his task, overcome with a sudden wave of melancholy. He traced a finger over the incomplete and distorted "Mark of the Dragon" amidst uneven, ruined skin. His heart clenched at the reminder of his incompetency, his father's sacrifice.

"Father, how's it like down there?" He whispered softly, almost lost. "Is it warmer there than it is here?"

But his broodings were cut short when the old wound's putrid stench penetrated his nostrils and he quickly wrapped it up as fast as he could manage. Damn this draconic curse! Would he have to bear this burden all the way to his grave?

Albel downed his last bit of sake in a single gulp, before tossing the bottle across the room. The object shattered against the cold stonewalls, the impact reducing it to thousands of porcelain fragments. Albel never reacted to that, or anything for that matter. It was only the weak that embraced sentiment and fear, and it was that one moment of weakness that had cost him everything.

But that young boy grew up and had channeled all his anger, all his remorse into a profession that demanded from him a very specific skill set. He had killed so many that he had lost count, terrorized the innocent until he could no longer justify his own cause, and earned a glorious reputation for all the wrong reasons. He knew he had become a monster, dubbed "Albel the Wicked" by enemy and ally alike. But he was in it too deep, hatred burned in his core. It was so hard to forgive and forget, to live and let live.

* * *

 

"Uh… where… urgh, my head…" Fayt groaned as he slowly came to.

He tried to move, but the stinging bite of the leather restraints around his wrists reminded him of his current situation. He surprised himself that he managed to remain in one piece, much less survive that terrible interrogation he had been put through. He had thought all these were only in stories or movies, but _damn,_ it was frightfully and painfully real. Fayt counted himself lucky that the sadistic inquisitor had only used a whip instead of the other sharp, painful-looking torture instruments that hung on the walls.

Sure, he had mentally braced himself for some questioning, a punch and kick here and there maybe, but not a continuous combination of the two. And then there was the relentless whipping of his skin…

As he waited for his vision to clear and catch up to the world of the conscious, he took his time to access his place of confinement: numerous cracks streaked across the moldy stone floors and moss-covered walls, those thin black lines running up and all over the ceiling; foul-smelling liquid dribbled and oozed out from holes in the walls, leaving a murky, brownish-green trail behind. Fayt wrinkled his nose in disgust. He was practically rolling in the remnants of sewage.

Across from where he lay stood a pathetic excuse of a bed, the frame having rusted from the prison's damp air. The corners were piled with skeletons of previous convicts, one of them more fresh compared to the rest: flies buzzed about its skull and maggots crawled out of the eye sockets.

Fayt didn't even want to think what resided under the bed.

After many painful and grueling attempts, he finally managed to sit up and when he looked down his front, he felt all color drain from his face. The guards had been… kind enough he supposed, to throw his shirt back on for him, but the white material was soaked with blood – _his blood._ He shifted and bit back a few screams. It didn't take him long to realize the deep gashes caused by the whip were still open and raw.

'Great,' he grimaced. If no one tended to them soon, they'd definitely get infected (if they weren't already) and the pain would only increase ten-fold. Then he'd be infected by some underdeveloped planet disease and die here in complete agony because of Cliff's _stupid hunch._

"Oh, you're awake."

Fayt slowly turned to address the gruff speaker, only to sigh and look away soon after. Speak of the devil.

"Yo what's with the attitude? Not happy to see me?"

"You could say that," Fayt mumbled.

'So it hadn't been a dream after all…' he thought miserably.

"Do you think Mirage got away safely?" he asked, dropping his voice into a whisper. Cliff chuckled.

" _You_ need to learn how to chill out. I told you, she's a Klausian. You just have to believe in that woman a bit more. She can hold her own ground – "

"Mom… dad… Sophia…"

Cliff paused and turned to stare at the blue haired boy, who had lowered his head, shielding his face from sight. The Klausian respected the kid's space and didn't pry about his tears. All this was probably too much for the boy to handle, and Cliff felt absolutely _fucked_ that he couldn't divulge more than his mission permitted.

"… I promise you, we'll go rescue your old man. You'll see your mom and that girl again too. We just have to get you to Quark's leader first and – "

" _What the hell does Quark have anything to do with all this!?"_

Cliff could do nothing but remain silent, as Fayt underwent his first mental breakdown. A moment passed, then Cliff tried again.

"You done?" His expression softened however, as soon as he caught sight of the dejected look from his charge's face. Cliff shook his head. Damn, he wasn't good with this sort of thing.

"Look, I'm sorry – "

"It's ok, it's not your fault. You don't know any more than what you've told me anyway," Fayt whispered. "Plus you're not very good at this, are you?"

"Was I that obvious?"

Fayt laughed. "Transparently."

The two settled into a comfortable silence, or as comfortable as their prison cell allowed. Fayt had no idea how long they'd been in here, or how long more they had to wait it out, but he didn't dare ask Cliff in case the guards outside overheard them. He just prayed that Cliff had a plan on getting them out of here.

"That inquisitor sure did a number on you," the blonde remarked as he took in the sight of the younger's bloodstained shirt. "If you don't dress them quickly, they're going to get infected."

Fayt shrugged. "It's not like we can do anything about it, all tied up like this. And I doubt these people will send in a doctor after what they put us through… Oh there _is_ one thing…" he trailed off, suddenly remembering something.

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"The inquisitor kept mentioning the word 'Aquaria'. What do you think _that's_ all about?"

The man only shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Beats me. That guy hit like a girl. I got so bored I fell asleep. Probably pissed him off so much, he went harder on you."

Fayt stared at him, stupefied. Could you seriously believe this guy? There he was sitting miserably on the dirty prison floor recovering from the effects of getting his skin ripped open and screaming his lungs out, and Cliff _fell asleep._ The guy was probably trying to cheer him up or something, but he apparently wasn't very good at that either.

"Shut up! I'm serious!"

"All right, all right, sheesh…"

Cliff adverted his gaze guiltily before adopting a more solemn tone. Fayt said a silent thank-you to the gods that his supposed bodyguard had the capacity to be serious when he wanted to.

"Aquaria, huh? That's probably the country that's at war with this one here – Airyglyph, or something. Looks like we raised quite the international hoo-ha with the Eagle's landing."

"You can say that again," murmured Fayt as he fixed the older with a hopeful stare. "What about you? Did you manage to find out anything?"

"As a matter of fact, I did!" Cliff proclaimed proudly, a large smirk on his face. Fayt's eyes shone with surprise and interest.

"And…?"

"The whips on this planet hurt too!"

The blonde's words crashed down on Fayt like a tombstone and he had to resist kicking the guy senseless. Instead, he went for the good old eye-roll, which he discovered to be doing more and more often when it came to Cliff.

"Oh _ha-ha._ Very funny…"

"One more thing I learnt: these restraints are pretty solid." Cliff wrestled against them to prove his point. " _Damn_! They're too tight! I can't move at all!"

As Fayt watched him struggle, he was at a loss of what to feel: insulted that the Klausian actually ignored his comment altogether, or the sheer horror that he was doomed with a guy who had an IQ level equivalent to that of a pea.

"Erm, that's why they're called 'restraints'?" he offered helpfully. Cliff shushed him.

"Save me the semantics, kid." He was glaring at something in the distance. "I think we're about to get our butts rescued."

As if on cue, the sound of hard metal hitting solid stone echoed off the walls of Airyglyph's prison as the guards fell to the floor, unconscious. A mysterious woman with crimson hair stood amongst the fallen forms, her stance confident with her hands perched casually on her hips. Her hair was cropped into a bob and she wore a strange kind of get-up: a black and blue stripped scarf around her neck, a rather suggestive and revealing black battle garb complete with a binder around her waist, matching knee-length boots, and had a curved dagger strapped to her side. The outfit ended in a mini-skirt that ended well-above mid-thigh and had a long split up the left side showing off, what Fayt felt, was more than necessary for any woman, and what would undoubtedly make any guy's imagination run wild. He wasn't a pervert or anything, but he noticed a chain of intriguing red symbols inscribed into the flesh of her legs and the high split of her skirt gave him a _much_ better view of all that – er… **tattoos.**

'Why do I get the feeling that I've seen them before?' Fayt pondered.

Cliff was looking at them too, although Fayt speculated that his thoughts were going off in a different direction. After all, the blonde had this dazed look in his eyes. Fayt shook his head and nudged his partner, snapping the guy out of whatever R-rated fantasy he was indulging in.

"Who _is_ she?" he whispered, suspicious.

For all he knew, the woman could be a trap sent by their torturers to get them to leak out some important information when their guard was down, like a spy of sorts. In Fayt's eyes, she was a threat, what with her ability to knock out three guards without them even noticing her presence… no matter how hot or sexy she happened to be.

Cliff had a dopey smile on his face.

"Friend or foe, I don't know, but if it's about escaping, I'll take my chances."

He approached the cell doors and being the brash and painfully direct personality that he was, went, "Yo. Listen, my friend and I are kind of in a tight spot here, so if you could just – " Cliff stopped himself, perturbed.

The red head didn't even acknowledge his presence, or Fayt's for that matter, but at the same time, her disposition seemed to be addressing them in its silence. It was a weird logic in that sense. The woman crossed her arms, her body language shifting from cool indifference to determination. Her violent eyes met the men in a harsh stare.

"You have two options: accept my conditions and live, or refuse and die here. It's your choice."

Fayt's mouth fell open in shock. "And what kind of options are those – "

"What exactly are your conditions?" Cliff butted in; having eyes only for the beautiful red head while Fayt shot him a murderous glare. _Why_ was the idiot humoring her?

"We want your technology," was her simple answer.

"Our technology?" he echoed while she proceeded to explain her motives.

"That's right. Our people plan to use this technology to end the war raging between this land and ours, with our side emerging victorious of course."

There was a hint of arrogance in her tone, one that showed through the slight upward quirk of her pink lips.

"So… you're not from around here? Where are you from?" Cliff prodded, mentally trying to piece together this planet's level of politics.

The woman on the other hand, appeared sincerely surprised by his question. In fact, her posture even seemed to relax a little.

"Why, no. I'm not from Airyglyph. I'm from the royal city of Aquios, capital of the Kingdom Aquaria, just southwards of here." It was her turn to be suspicious. "I thought that would've been obvious from my arrival."

Cliff shook his head good-naturedly and shot her an appeasing grin.

"Nah, just checking. Was worried you were sent down here by those crazies up there to try something funny on us." That earned him an amused smirk from the female.

"As much as I appreciate a man who exercises caution, my question still stands: will you cooperate?"

Before Cliff could open his mouth and respond to that, Fayt had beat him to the catch and unfortunately, wasn't exactly the best negotiator for the job. When the boy raved on about wanting 'no part in this war' and in turn started questioning the woman's sanity – or lack of it – Cliff would have buried his face in his hands in shame if they hadn't been tied to his back. He was beginning to wonder why the inquisitor hadn't gagged Fayt while he was at it, or why he himself didn't think of knocking the kid out with a head-butt earlier on. Even the woman's insane level of patience seemed to be at its wit's end if the little twitches of annoyance on her face counted for anything.

"So I take it you _don't_ wish to cooperate?" she raised her voice a little, crossing her arms. Nevertheless, she tried to appease to the boy's senses.

"I can understand your reluctance to be involved, but you can't possibly expect me to believe that you actually _like_ it here. Also, I don't think you two have any particular loyalty to Airygyph – she indicated at their wounds and bruises – so why not help us?"

When Fayt looked like he was ready to protest again, Cliff immediately inserted himself between the boy and the bars. He offered the red head an apologetic stare.

"Give us a second, would you?" She indicated her consent and stepped back. "Thanks."

He then faced Fayt and ushered him towards the far end of the cell out of possible hearing range. There, they initiated their discussion.

"You, shut up."

"But – "

"Look, kid," admonished Cliff, "we don't exactly have a lot of options. You want to see your old man again, right?"

Fayt eyed Cliff, uncertain. "Well, yeah, but…"

Cliff wasn't one to be thrown off by petty indecision. In fact, he decided to put a little more force in his statement.

"What I'm saying is, we don't have much time and sitting around here isn't going to help us accomplish anything. You with me so far?"

Fayt nodded after much reluctance. Cliff brightened as he realized he was finally going somewhere with this.

"So what I'm saying right now is if we're going to get rescued, it might as well be that hot chick over there, get what I mean?"

"But I don't – "

"Do I need to spell it out for you? That _babe's_ our ticket _out_ of this joint!" He lowered his voice into a whisper. "Besides, when we do get out, we might be able to make a break for it instead of getting ourselves mixed up in their politics."

Fayt shut his eyes, weighing his options. Cliff hadn't been more accurate about their situation. On one hand, he really didn't mind accepting this strange lady's assistance if it meant being free from this disgusting, foul-smelling hellhole. But on the other hand, he didn't want to be further mixed up with the matters of this planet. Sure he was one to keep promises, but he'd rather not violate the UP3, despite how much they technically ‘violated’ it already. He sighed; for once, they agreed on the same thing.

"Alright." Fayt complied, turning around to face his partner who grinned.

"'Atta boy. Just let me do the talking from now on, you hear?"

"Fine…"

They approached the bars of their cell once more to regard the red head. It was Cliff who spoke first. "Okay, we'll loan you our technology."

The woman raised an eyebrow in question. That had been… way too easy. She had to stop her hand from involuntarily travelling to her dagger in case she shattered whatever strange diplomacy the three of them had just forged.

"How do I know I can trust you?" she said all of a sudden, giving them a critical stare. "You're not planning on running away, are you? Because if you are, I'll kill you."

That statement caused the two men to visibly freeze up, Cliff inwardly cursing their misfortune and the woman's keen perception. Perhaps things weren't going to be as easy as he originally hoped.

"Hey, she heard us," Fayt whispered to him in surprise. It unnerved him slightly when Cliff went uncharacteristically silent.

The red head smirked at the astonished blonde, staring at him through narrowed eyes, which held the slightest hint of mischief. Her hands were back on her hips as she continued to stare at Cliff whose expression had shifted into an impressed smile.

"And I appreciate you calling me hot, but 'chick' I can live without."

Cliff chuckled. "Sca-ree…"

Her smirk melted into a charming smile, one that she herself didn't quite understand where it came from.

"I'm Nel Zelpher by the way." And she quickly added as an afterthought, "Leader of the Secret Legion and personal guard to Her majesty of Aquaria."

"Cliff Fittir, but you can just call me Cliff."

"Charmed."

Fayt watched their exchange, eyes darting back and forth between the two adults in growing frustration. When it became apparent that Cliff had _completely_ forgotten about him and wasn't going to make the effort to introduce him whatsoever, Fayt performed a full eye-roll. Now was _not_ the time to make goo-goo eyes with strangers! He took the liberty of physically inserting himself between them.

"And I'm Fayt Leingod. So, can you get us out?"

His question seemed to snap Nel back into action.

"Then I take it we have a deal?" They nodded.

"Then step away from the bars," she instructed firmly and placed her hand over the prison locks. A mysterious purple glow gathered at the center of her palm, before dispersing into a circle of symbols – symbols that evidently resembled the ones etched onto her thighs. They shattered the locks and forced the doors open. She stepped back once the deed was done.

"You're free."

Fayt and Cliff's jaws fell open. Out of all methods one could pull, neither of them expected to be saved _that_ way _…_ whatever _that_ was. Fayt found himself once again hovering over his highly speculative thoughts. That skill Nel had just performed… and her tattoos… why did it seem to ring a bell so incessantly in his cranium?

"Want me to get that for you?"

"Huh?"

It was then that he realized he had spaced out again and Nel was talking to him, indicating at his restraints. He noticed Cliff already had his taken off and was relishing in the feel of his hands and fingers again.

"O-Oh yeah, thanks."

Nel moved behind him and the fact that he suddenly couldn't see her made him feel nervous. She unsheathed her dagger. "Don't move."

In a few quick slashes, Fayt was free and he gratefully rotated his wrists to get the blood back into his fingers. He was about to thank Nel, but looked up and realized that she had disappeared. A quick survey of his surroundings though confirmed that that hadn't been the case - the red head merely wandered into a neighboring cell. Fayt and Cliff exchanged curious stares, but followed her inside nevertheless. However, the sight that greeted them made Fayt wish he hadn't given into his curiosity and stayed outside.

There was a body on the ground, barely clothed and lying in a cold, coagulated pool of blood. The uniform, which resembled Nel's, was brutally shredded at specific areas, exposing – from what Nel could see – vital points of the human anatomy that would produce the most pain if inflicted. The body was lying facedown and when Nel grabbed the corpse's shoulder and turned it around, she was met by a grotesque spectacle of what she believed to be the face of a loyal informant. Not only its body, but its face was rendered unrecognizable: parts of the flesh on the cheeks had been pulled apart, exposing the muscle beneath; lips had been sealed shut by an array of needles, and the eyes had been gorged out; a dagger was lodged at the center of the forehead, probably in a final bid to quell the victim's agony and severe the threads of life.

Cliff suppressed a shudder and looked away, clearly disturbed, not just by the sight of the corpse, but at Nel's seeming indifference. Fayt on the other hand, wasn't holding up as well, dry-heaving on the floor next to where he stood.

Nel bowed her head and whispered a prayer of deliverance. She stroked her ex-informant's hair matted in blood, before completely slicing off whatever remained of the dead woman's clothing. Cliff's eyes widened, clearly not expected that, while Fayt – who had chosen the wrong time to look up – blushed profusely and looked away.

Nel took her time examining the body, until her eyes found the very thing she had been searching for. To any Glyphian soldier, the red markings on the body's inner thighs would look like the inscriptions of Aquarian runes, but these ones were different and were a coded message. A message meant to be delivered to her by word, not like this. She pulled away and covered the body with an old blanket from the nearby bed.

It was time to go. She got what she came for.

"Who was that?" asked Cliff, surprising himself with his tenderness.

Nel kept her eyes on the covered body as she spoke, "My informant – one of my best. Airyglyph **will pay _._** "

The promise of blood and vengeance in her voice made Cliff shudder.

"D-Did… the inquisitor…?" was all Fayt managed as soon as he collected himself, relieved that the carnage was no longer in plain sight.

"No," replied Nel with a resolute shake of her head. "There is only one man who could have done such a thing – for necessity, for fun, for pleasure… But this… He had been bored."

Fayt gazed at her in horror. _Bored?_ Boredom had reduced that woman to that – that monstrous condition? He didn't care _who_ 'that man' was, but to think Cliff and him were still _alive_ seemed nothing short of a miracle. Suddenly, he didn't feel his session with the inquisitor had been so bad after all.

Fayt and Cliff followed Nel in silence, the gravity of their situation weighing heavily on them. They stopped beneath a ventilation shaft and Nel turned to address them with a calm dignity that betrayed her emotions.

"We'll get out from here. That vent leads to the Airyglyph Aqueducts. It's a tight fit, but it widens out a bit. Once we get through there, we'll be in the city. My subordinates are waiting for us with our ride."

She paused and placed a comforting hand on Fayt's shoulder.

"Are you alright? You're in shock," she said with a kind gentleness that neither man expected her to possess.

So taken by this change that Fayt could only nod mutely in spite of his fear. That seemed enough for Nel though and she was back to her usual no-nonsense mode.

"Good. Fayt, you go first and then Cliff. I'll bring up the rear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Albel amuses me. Also, is that a Cliff/Nel pairing I see? Honestly, I don't know how my pairings come about. But it makes for a little surprise here and there, no?  
> As always, please leave your comments in your reviews if you have any. I’m always happy to read your responses and work on improving my writing.


	5. In Our Darkest Hour, We Pray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came out a lot slower than I intended for it to. Seriously, I plotted everything for chapter 5, but majority of what I plotted will only appear in the following update. I guess I really can't stick to a plan when I write for Star Ocean. There's way too many feels and shit going on.

Roger murmured adorably in his sleep and rolled over, burying his face into the downy comforts of his soft, white pillow. His tiny fingers clung onto the sheets as he snuggled against the comforter, relishing in its warmth. Another string of sleepy gibberish passed through his lips. For a moment he simply laid there, utterly relaxed and unmoving, sprawled out in typical starfish position across the bed… until realization finally kicked in. This _wasn't_ his scent on the pillow and this _wasn't_ his bed.

Roger shot up in a haphazard daze and in his apparent disarray, had unfortunately ended up entangling himself in the blanket. The desperate need to dislodge himself from the cotton monster however, resulted in him landing unceremoniously onto the hard bedroom floor with a loud ' _thump!'_

" _Ow…"_

He groaned miserably, cradling his poor head in his hands. When he opened his eyes, his vision swam and tilted violently. That hadn't been the best way to wakeup… why was everything moving…?

He remained seated on the floor, blanket wrapped tightly around him like a makeshift igloo. It was in such a position where Roger desperately tried to calm his frantically beating heart. Initially, he assumed his escape the previous night had all been a dream and he was still in his bedroom in Surfeiro. But when his nose twitched at the memory of that unfamiliar scent he inhaled from the pillow, the Menodix knew that hadn't been the case.

It was ironic how he dreaded the thought of home compared to his impending tedious journey. Somehow, thoughts of returning to the lackluster life Surferio had been reduced to, had frightened him far worse than the idea of being held captive against his will in an unfamiliar territory… Ok, _maybe_ 'held captive' was pushing it a little too far (what kind of kidnapper ensured their hostage had a soft, comfy bed to sleep on anyway?), but he still had no idea where he was, _dagnabbit_!

"I'm… still in Peterny, right?" he wondered out loud.

The little humanoid racked his brain for a possible explanation, but all that came up was the memory of him settling down upon the steps of the Peterny Church for the night, since he hadn't cash for a room in the town's inn. He figured that hadn't been the best of his ideas up to date, but he didn't think it would be _illegal_ …

Maybe that's where he was: the town authorities must have seized him and brought him to their headquarters for questioning! What would he say? What would he tell them? They'd probably send him back home once they found out he was only a minor – but he couldn't go back to Surfeiro! He _wouldn't_ go back now that he finally made it out after months of trying! And he needed to look for Nel, see if she was ok. And he needed to get to Airyglyph. And that strange metal thing that landed. And – Roger's eyes widened in dread – what if they found out he was a humanoid?

"E-Excuse me, are you awake? I – "

"I'M NORMAL!"

His outburst had frightened the newcomer so much that she nearly dropped the breakfast tray she was carrying. The girl looked to be about 16 – 17 years old, with lovely brown hair that cascaded down her back, and had big, round emerald eyes set upon a sweet and delicate face that blossomed with mirth and compassion. Her complexion took to a slight pallor though, and the hollow of her cheeks were sure indications of a decline in health. Even her breaths were shallow. Pity: the brunette would have made a far prettier sight if there had been more color to her cheeks and luster to her lips. Wrapped around her shoulders was a dull brown shawl that looked to have seen better days; the pale pink frock she had on was elegant in its simplicity.

After getting over her initial shock, the young maiden whipped her head around in confusion, unable to locate the source of that vehement exclamation. Then, her wide green eyes landed on the empty and terribly untidy bed, her gaze growing wider in rising panic. She slammed the breakfast tray on the bedside table and threw herself onto the bed.

"Mr. Kitty? Mr. Kitty, where are you?!"

Roger didn't know what was worse: the name the girl used on him, or the bed sheets and pillows she unknowingly threw over him as she practically stripped her mattress in a desperate attempt to locate her guest. He was just about to let this dense girl have a piece of his mind, when the sound of her loud coughing shattered whatever prior resolve he had mustered. Oh, he knew she looked a little sickly to begin with, but those coughs sounded _really_ bad and the real man in him couldn't help but worry about her, even if she did call him that embarrassing name earlier. He just hoped that whatever illness she was down with wasn't _too_ serious…

Besides, she was really pretty!

In a last ditch effort to free himself, Roger called out to her, but all that sounded from beneath the layers of sheets was a soft, " _hmooph!"_

It was enough to get the girl to stop suffocating the kid to death. She peered over the edge of the bed, gaze honing in on a pair of arms flailing pathetically under a mountain of white sheets. She giggled, which only caused the arms to flail faster. Finally taking pity on him, she got off the bed and proceeded to dig him out.

"And how did you end up on the floor, you poor thing," she said gently as she helped Roger onto a chair.

The top of his head was the only thing that reached above the table when he sat down, so the girl had to gather some cushions to rectify the problem, much to the boy's chagrin. Out of all the races, Menodixes just _had_ to be the ones blessed with the shortest height…

"Eh heh heh… Just kinda freaked out – the girl shoved another cushion under his butt – and quit fussing over me, I ain't no baby and I ain't no 'Mr. Kitty' either!" he finalized with a pout to which his companion laughed at.

Roger couldn't help the slightest upturn of his own lips when he heard that. He realized that he liked the sound of her laughter. It reminded him of the tinkling of a little bell during tranquil summertime – innocent and sweet.

"So what's all this about being 'normal'?" she asked, amused.

She had pushed the breakfast tray closer to Roger and sat on the chair opposite him. Roger flushed in embarrassment as he stabbed at the eggs on his plate.

"O-oh… that. Just – I just thought ya were some kinda… _gah!_ Never mind all that – he spooned some eggs into his mouth and swallowed – Ya won't get it anyway. S'all grown-up… politicky… stuff."

The maiden continued to smile as she pointed at his head. "Does it have anything to do with those?"

"Does what with what?"

She giggled and continued to point at him. "You know… _those."_

Roger frowned and tilted his head in confusion; then he followed her line of vision and slowly brought his hands up to his head. His fingers brushed against the soft fur of his ears, which twitched upon contact. The effect was instantaneous. Roger let out a high-pitched squeal and immediately fumbled for the shawl around his waist, only to become thoroughly mortified at the feel of his soft bushy tail instead of coarse cloth. Then, his hands were back on his head, fingers frantically running all over his wild brown tresses.

_Where was his helm?_

"Ah! Don't worry about your things," the brunette hurriedly consoled him. "You looked rather uncomfortable sleeping with them on last night, so I took the liberty of taking them off for you when I found you outside the church."

 _Ah,_ so he was right; he had been brought here against his will. Not that he was complaining or anything – the food was _good_ – but still, there were some things that remained unanswered, that just didn't seem to add up. Why would a normal girl like his hostess, simply pick him up from the streets in the middle of the night and accommodate him in her house, which was something he was very sure _wasn't_ normal. He believed his confusion and suspicion showed on his face.

"Who are ya? And why did ya help me? It couldn't have been about money, right? I mean, if it wasn't obvious enough, I haven't got any ta begin with…"

The girl shook her head in earnest.

"No, that's not my reason at all! You didn't seem to have a place to go and you were shivering… you're just a young boy for goodness sake! I couldn't just leave you there."

She gazed at him with pleading eyes.

"Please... I know it sounds hard to believe, but I had no other intentions other than help you. I… I honestly had _no idea_ you were a humanoid until I took off your little hat-thing." She paused to bow in her seat, hoping her explanation hadn't offended; her cheeks were tinted pink.

"A-And… I guess it's only proper you know my name – she straightened with a smile – I'm Ameena Leffeld. I sell flowers in Peterny."

Roger titled his head curiously. "Flowers…?" She nodded.

"Yes, I grow them myself in my garden and sell them around town every morning. I used to pick wild ones from the mountains last time, but my health hasn't been very good lately… so I just grow them now."

Her eyes met Roger's in a shy glance, her words tentative. "Your ears… and your tail… are you really from the Sanmite Republic?"

Roger couldn't help but sigh in resignation, his ears flattening against his skull. It seemed that there was no point bothering with a cover story. After all, this girl, Ameena, already found out last night and he honestly couldn't bring himself to lie to her. She had cared for him, fed him, gave him someplace warm to sleep – her own bed even – and at the very least, she deserved the truth, never mind the problematic consequences that would follow if word got out about his presence here. Besides, Ameena was practically harmless and she had been nothing more than an angel to him. Sure, she may be somewhat sickly and a bit of an airhead, but he liked her and felt he could trust her.

"Yup! I'm Roger S. Huxley – _Sir_ Roger, though seeing as you're so pretty, Ameena, Roger’s fine. Also, I'm not a Fellpoolian. I'm a Menodix," he announced with pride, folding his arms.

He couldn't help the excited swishing of his tail as he talked about his heritage. The Huxley name _did_ have quite the reputation tied to it after all, what with his pops being village chief and Prime Minister of the Sanmite Republic. Though in the eyes of the tribe elders, he was steadily growing to be a less likely candidate to succeed his pops, especially with all the trouble he'd been getting into and giving his village… _Meh,_ Ameena didn't need to know all those unimportant details.

"I may not look it, but I'm _veeerrryyyy_ important ya know?"

Ameena gave him a bemused grin.

"Is that so? Well then, _Sir_ _Roger_ – she giggled – which village are you in-charge of?" At the boy's hesitant look, she quickly added, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you're here. Your secret's safe with me." That seemed enough to reassure him as he launched into his excited babble once again.

"I'm from Surfeiro!"

Ameena gasped in awe."You mean the _lost city_?"

"Uh huh! The one and only!" The bewilderment on the girl's face was priceless.

"But – but, I thought… I thought it sank centuries ago during the Aquor-Greeton war!"

Roger stuck out his tongue playfully.

"Heh heh… Truth is only some of it did, but most of it is still above water. I know ya humans don't believe it exists, that y’all talk about it in your stories; but that's _only_ cuz ya can't find it. Ya need a humanoid ta bring ya there after all."

"Is it as beautiful as the stories say it is?"

" _Muuucchhhh_ more beautiful."

Ameena's eyes sparkled, having grown so wide that Roger swore they would've sucked out and devoured his soul if not for the table that separated them. The brunette had her hands clasped together and was leaning forward eagerly, while he made the slightest effort to lean back, wanting to put some distance between them but not wishing to offend her at the same time. He could understand her excitement and fascination. It was almost akin to a fairytale come true, after all, but that didn't make her reaction any less disconcerting. He held up a hand to stop her mind from wandering any further.

"Now wait just a second," he said nervously "y-ya know I can't _take_ ya there, right? At least… not now anyway…" he trailed off awkwardly, feeling somewhat bad that he had caused the girl's smile to falter.

Ameena's shoulders practically slumped as she lowered her eyes in disappointment.

"Oh. It's because of the war, isn't it? The isolation policy… I - I can't believe I forgot about that… I feel like such an idiot." Her lower lip began to tremble and her breaths came out shallow.

Tears began to gather in her eyes and her breathing grew harsher, as if she was willing herself not to cry. Unfortunately, she wasn't very convincing in oppressing her emotions, not if the startled Menodix in front of her accounted for anything. Roger shot forward and grabbed her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze – something his mama always did whenever he was upset and felt too embarrassed to ask for a hug. One thing he couldn't bear to see was a girl crying, worse still if he had been the cause of it.

"H-Hey, why are ya crying? Don't cry… Ya – you're not an idiot, ok? I'm sorry if I said summin wrong… Just say the word and I'll make it up ta ya, honest I will!"

Ameena sniffed and shook her head, squeezing his hand in return. "N-No, it's nothing like that. You didn't say anything wrong… just… It's just this war…" she trailed off with a forlorn sigh.

"My parents… they died during the war. They were falsely accused for something and were executed – she wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve – T-Then I moved down to Peterny because the doctors said the warmer climate here would do my health good. I've been living here alone ever since."

Roger gazed at her in concern. "You're sick?"

Ameena adverted her eyes, her frail fingers playing with the ends of her shawl.

"My health has always been poor ever since I was a child. It was never easy to afford the medical fees before the war, but…" she trailed off in a whisper "it's even harder right now."

The Menodix remained silent throughout Ameena's story, feeling foolish and ashamed of his impulsive actions. Here he was, a boy with a family and home that he could always count on and return to but chose to abandon, while this amazing girl had lost everything, struggling to survive in this world every single day, all by herself. Now that he thought about it, the house they were currently in _did_ appear rather shabby and run-down… and to think she offered him what little she already had out of the kindness of her heart.

Perhaps his pops was right. He hadn't fully understood the gravity of this war, hadn't considered the plight of the innocent and the pain they undoubtedly went through from their losses. He had only prayed for peace, for life to return to normal; but he finally realized how naive that was. Things could never be the same again, especially if a table that had once sat four became too big for only two. What difference could one humanoid boy make?

"Ameena… you're an orphan?" he asked tentatively while she nodded.

"And… ya sell flowers 'a support yourself?"

"I grow what I can, yes."

"And… what happens if they don't grow? If no one buys any of ya pretty flowers?"

"Then I cut back the best I can."

"Even on yer med’cine?"

"Why, yes," she replied matter-of-factly with a hint of uncertainty.

She continued to observe the small boy who had his head lowered, shielding his eyes from view and desperately gnawing at his bottom lip. A curious frown crossed her features. "Roger…?"

She gasped when said boy got up and flung himself at her, wrapping his arms around her neck and pressing his face against her throat. Ameena sat rigid for a moment, speechless and baffled, unsure of the next course of action she should take. However, at the feel of wetness upon her skin, her arms went up automatically to envelop the young child in a comforting embrace. Roger continued to cry silently, not knowing where his tears came from and angry at his sudden display of childish weakness. He couldn't let something like this affect him; he had to be strong for Ameena. He was probably making her feel worse with his stupid tears. A new wave of resolve overtook Roger and he mumbled something against her neck.

"Say… Ameena?"

"Mhmm?" she hummed sweetly, allowing Roger to pull back a bit as his wide chocolate-brown eyes met her twinkling emerald ones.

"When the war's over, I'll take ya ta Surfeiro! I promise," he exclaimed, his tail swishing from side to side excitedly, even his ears perked a little.

The girl giggled, from both happiness and the ticklish sensation against her thighs. "Really? Your parents won't mind?"

Roger grinned from ear to ear.

"Nah, I wouldn't worry about them if I were ya! My folks are great: pops is an awesome cook, and mama tells all these… boring… stories… uh… _Anyway_ , Surfeiro's real pretty and it's always sunny, so it's nice and warm and it'll be good fer yer health and stuff! You'll love it there!"

Ameena couldn't help but laugh at the boy's enthusiasm. She tapped his little nose, which twitched cutely.

"OK! Cross your heart?"

Roger mimicked the action with his finger and saluted. "And hope 'ta die!"

A beautiful smile graced Ameena's lips as she pulled him back into a tight hug.

* * *

The wagon rocked from side to side as it made its way across the bumpy, snow-covered terrain. It's four occupants sat within in silence, save a purple haired female at the reigns whom Nel had introduced earlier as Farleen. Next to Nel sat another woman, Tynave, the supposed tomboy of their little group of three. The five of them were currently on their way to Kirlsa, an old mining town situated at Airyglyph's border.

Kirlsa was under the control of the Storm Brigade Captain, Count Woltar, and the Black Brigade Headquarters wasn't that far off from the town as well. As such, Nel had advised all of them to exercise extreme caution when passing through so as to not attract any unwanted attention from any soldiers. When Fayt had demanded an explanation as to why they were even bothering with such a risk, Nel had simply stated that this route was the fastest to Aquarian territory; and Cliff… Cliff just told him to shut up as usual.

The hours preceding their escape from Airyglyph's prison had been, for lack of better term, eventful. For starters, he couldn't believe how smooth a talker Cliff was, managing to breeze his way through the defenses and suspicions of their rescuer. On top of that, despite not knowing a single thing about this planet, Cliff had actually managed to convince Nel they weren't spies, but engineers on a mission from Greeton… wherever that was. Anyway, Cliff's story hadn't been _all_ lies. In fact, there were glimpses of truth in his explanation, specifically about his father getting captured and that they were on a mission to save him.

However, there had been one question nagging at the back of his mind ever since he saw Nel perform that strange trick in the dungeons, and again when she healed his wounds. She had called it "Runology" upon being questioned; claiming that one could command such a power by inscribing special runes into their skin, but only a few people possessed such potential in the first place. There were barely any in Aquaria, and none at all in Airyglyph. When Cliff had remarked that their Runology had a strong resemblance to Symbology, Fayt was ecstatic.

 _No wonder_ those symbols looked so familiar, and that summoning circle… Runology was probably the primitive form of Symbology. Nel had been astounded by this revelation to say the least. She probably thought it fascinating that an art passed down by Apris – the goddess Aquarians ascribed to – was being replicated in foreign lands.

Shortly after that, Nel had briefed them about the state of the two kingdoms. While Airyglyph was a military superpower that governed its people akin to a dictatorship, Aquaria was a peaceful nation, whose Queen was also the Holy Mother of the Sacred Church of Apris - a theocratic rule espoused from their worship of said god. The cause of the war had been simple enough: Airyglyph was a poor nation that sought to subjugate the prosperous lands of Aquaria under a single, unified rule - theirs.

"It seemed that Airyglyph has been planning for war for quite some time. After six years of silence, they struck without warning, laying waste to our border town, Arias. There was no room for negation," Nel had said in a solemn voice.

Fayt stared down helplessly at the map spread out before him, not really studying the lands, but desperately trying to absorb the situation they, as well as this continent, were in. Discussions had proceeded smoothly at first, until Nel finally told them what exactly their help would entail, and… well, to put things simply, he didn't like it, which would explain the **major** disagreement him and Nel were currently in.

He was dragged out of memory lane when Nel snapped her fingers in front of his face, her expression irritated and impatient. Grimly, Fayt realized that expression of hers was showing up more and more when it came to him.

"Fayt, I asked if you could help us. If you're going to fall asleep on me, I can assure you, I know various methods to keep my audience attentive."

A dark glint flashed across her violet eyes and Fayt had to suppress a shudder. He recalled how skillfully and effortlessly Nel had taken down the Inquisitor and a few soldiers when they were caught trying to escape, as well as the few monsters they encountered in the Aqueducts on the way out. Oh sure, Cliff could hold his ground (and beat the living crap out of anything that so much as moved, with his bare hands) and Nel had handed him a sword to dish out his own fair share of damage (and Sophia said all that gaming had been useless, _hah!)_ , but the Aquarian… she was a natural. The graceful fluidity of her movements as she wielded her blades, as if she were executing a complicated dance instead of murder; the way she darted in and out of battle with the swift dexterity akin to a ninja; the way she regarded her dying opponent without so much as batting an eyelash… Nel was a born, cold-blooded killer.

Fayt was seriously reconsidering his position over here. Being fearful of the enemy was one thing, but remaining oblivious to who the _real_ enemy was, was even more frightening. He didn't know if Nel had any reservations on trusting him, but he sure as hell did for her.

"And I _did_ hear you," he answered back with a slight edge in his voice. "But you're asking me to help build a weapon that would kill hundreds of people! I don't want any part in that!"

Prior to their current line of disagreement, Nel had informed them about a new weapon the researchers in Aquaria had developed to put an end to the war as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, there was some problem in its design construct, causing research to ground to an indefinite halt. The weapon was to be powered by _Runology_ , and was designed to channel the energy to produce a powerful lightning blast capable of destroying a small town in a single shot.

"Look, if this was going to be a problem, you should have thought about it before agreeing to our deal," Nel said coldly while Fayt bristled in anger.

"Deal? _Deal?!_ What part of that sounded like a deal to you!?" He knew he was halfway close to biting the woman's head off. "You can live, or you can die. That's coercion and you know it!" That earned him a piercing glare from Nel.

"Call it what you will, but you still owe me an answer. I should warn you though, our deal still stands. If you refuse to cooperate, I _will_ kill you. _Both of you._ "

"Is _that_ a teaching of your god, Apris?" he countered with spite.

"No, but the death of a few is insubstantial to hundreds. God or no god, some things must be done for the greater good of mankind. My mission is my religion."

Fayt growled and threw his back against the wagon walls in frustration. He shut his eyes and leaned against the canvas, arms crossed in defiance. He refused to look at Nel because he feared his future actions if he did. He refused to get mad and blow his top again at yet another headstrong idiot on this crazy adventure because it usually ended up as a total waste of his breath and spit. And he refused to open his eyes and say anything because, maybe, if he behaved like a petulant child, Nel would think she made some mistake and just throw them out… What? A guy could dream, couldn't he?

"Yo Fayt, ease up, would you?"

He sighed inwardly. And then there was good old Cliff. How the blonde could harbor an attraction towards this crazy lady and side with her all the damn time was beyond him. Honestly, was he the only one with a rational, solid opinion on this godforsaken planet?

This time, Fayt sighed out loud, his eyebrows moving into a frown. "Is there any other way to appease Airyglyph?"

Nel shook her head, but when she realized Fayt couldn't see that, she spoke, "All negotiations ceased eight months ago. They rejected all peace treaties and any mention of a compromise. Airyglyph wants Aquarian lands and they have sworn to take it by force if need be."

"A war of aggression driven by personal gain, huh?" remarked Cliff.

"Yes."

Fayt considered his next words carefully. However, no matter how he rephrased it in his head, he knew there was no kinder way to put his question forward. Then again, their rescuer wasn't exactly being kind to them either by threatening to kill them.

"I'm sorry, Nel. I won't do it. We can't help you."

"Then are we to submit ourselves to their blades like lambs to a slaughter?!"

Fayt's eyes shot open from her words, the simmering fire in his gut now fully ablaze. This woman had _no right_ _whatsoever_ to put such careless words into his mouth. If she thought she could bully them into cooperating, then she had another thing coming. He slammed his fists onto the wooden floorboards and was right up at her face, expression livid.

"That's **_not_** what I **_meant_** _,_ " he hissed in contempt.

"But that **_is_** what you are **_saying_** ," she matched his tone.

The two glared heatedly at each other, the staring contest so intense that Cliff and Tynave looked about two seconds close to pissing in their pants. And then, by some sheer force of will, Nel looked away, her glare fading to be replaced with a cold, determined stare. Her next words were chosen with leveled precision.

"If you think I'm good with coercion, think again." She unsheathed her dagger and to emphasize her point, stabbed it in the wood in-between Fayt's fingers.

"I'm going to be frank with the both of you. Airyglyph has no need for you any more than my need to hear _your_ incessant whining. They found a way to finish this war and I'll be _damned_ if they use that method before we finish our weapon!"

She dislodged the dagger and Fayt gulped audibly when he felt its tip press against his throat.

"By Apris, I'll _make_ you cooperate if it means I can stop them from using _that!_ "

Everyone in the wagon fell silent, their mouths hanging open in shock – even the driver, Farleen, turned back to regard her superior with interest. Fayt was half-tempted to reach up and strangle the hysterical woman senseless, but the evident mass of emotion swimming in her eyes made him reconsider. Nel's façade had cracked and at that very moment, she looked as vulnerable and lost as he felt. There was something she wasn't telling them – any one of them for that matter – and he was determined to find out what it was.

"Lady Nel, we have company!" cried Farleen all of a sudden, jerking sharply at the reigns.

The abrupt change in course sent the four of them tumbling. Disoriented, Fayt scrambled to his feet, but the sharp jostling sent him rolling again. Fortunately for him, Cliff managed to grab the back of his collar before he flew right out.

"What the hell is going on?!" Cliff demanded, his free hand scrambling to grab a hold of something to keep himself balanced. He turned to glare at a frustrated Nel.

"Are you guys _messing_ with us?"

Nel simply pushed right past him to get a peak outside, only to gasp and recoil in fear.

" _Damn it_! It's the Dragon Brigade! And we were so close to Kirlsa too!"

This was the second time today Fayt noticed the falter in her composure. He was confused; hadn't Nel said that Airyglyph no longer had any use for him and Cliff? That they found an alternative solution to put an end to the war? If that was the case, why was the _Dragon Brigade_ – Airyglyph's highest military command – here? So many things just didn't add up, and a glance at Cliff told him that the blonde was probably thinking the same thing.

Tynave stepped forward and saluted her superior.

"Ma'am, take these men and get to Kirlsa quickly! Farleen will slow down a bit to give you three a chance to slip out and escape. We'll lure them away."

Nel indicated her consent. "Right. Tynave, Farleen, I'm counting on you," she said while approaching Fayt and Cliff. "You two, let's go."

Fayt stared at her in disbelief. "You're just going to _abandon_ them like that? They don't stand a chance against those Air Dragons! You're practically ordering their suicide!"

Seriously, he couldn't understand this woman. Weren't Tynave and Farleen her most trusted subordinates, her closest friends even? He might not have understood the way this planet operated, but he knew for sure that that was _not_ how good friends treated each other.

"Unless you have any better ideas, I suggest you do as I say or die before you can even go rescue your father," Nel replied patiently as she parted the canvas to get a good look outside. "You're no good to anyone dead and it is my mission to see to your protection until we reach Aquois."

"But Nel, _think_ for a sec – "

" _Fayt_ ," Cliff interrupted with just as much bite, "there's no point arguing with her, especially since she's right. You don't have to give your answer now, but the important thing is to stay _alive_ if you want to see your old man again."

He folded his arms in finality. "My job is to protect you as well, so I'm with Nel on this. We don't really have any choice!"

"But – "

"We'll be fine," Tynave stepped forward and did her best to reassure him. "Less people means faster speed. We'll be able to outrun them. You're too precious to lose, so please, go!"

When Fayt still looked unsure, she placed a hand over her heart in their customary salute.

"Take care of Lady Nel for us, and forgive me for this."

And in one swift roundhouse kick, she sent Fayt flying out the wagon onto the dirt path behind them. Cliff and Nel leapt out after him while the wagon sped off with three bloodthirsty Air Dragons at its tail. Tynave turned away and closed her eyes.

"May the grace of Apris be with you."

* * *

 As soon as the last Air Dragon disappeared from sight, Fayt grabbed Nel by the shoulder and whirled her around to face him. He didn't even know where this insane surge of courage came from, but before he could even stop to consider his actions, he drew back his hand and delivered a harsh slap to the unsuspecting woman's face.

" _What the **hell** is wrong with you!?"_ he yelled above the roaring winds. "If we stayed on board, we could've fought those soldiers off! Am I right to say that we'll never see them again?"

Nel remained silent, eyes glazing over, while Fayt lost his patience.

" _Am I?!"_

They were standing on barren land, in the middle of a dirt path. Snow continued to fall around them, the winds picking up drastically. Nel pulled her scarf around herself tighter.

"… If I hadn't done what I did, the mission would've been compromised." Nel's stare hardened, meeting his head-on. "If I were to compromise the mission, they would've left me behind too."

Fayt gazed at her with wide, disbelieving eyes, momentarily stunned from such an aloof explanation. His anger promptly returned and he forced his fists against his side least he ended up hitting her again.

"Mission? _Mission?!_ What is it with you and your mission?! You preach about loyalty, but you offer your friends up to the enemy at the slightest mishap."

He pointed a finger at her accusingly. "How can I trust you? How do I know if you're not as bad as Airyglyph; if you're the real enemies; if you're lying? Your words in the wagon, the contradictory dragon attack… there's something you’re hiding. What are you not telling us, Nel?"

The Aquarian stared at him desperately. "Fayt, I – "

However, she paused and her eyes soon grew wide in awe at what she saw right in front of her. A strange blue light had started to gather at the center of Fayt's forehead, pulsing with pure energy. Before she could question him about it, the light and power faded, making her wonder if the stress and fatigue were playing tricks on her.

When Nel continued to stare blankly at him, a perturbed frown began to creep across Fayt's features.

"… What?" he asked suspiciously. "Upset that I ruined your little mind games?"

"Kid, if you don't shut up right now, I'll sock you!"

Fayt growled in frustration. He _did not_ need any lip from the blonde dolt now!

"And you're OK with all this?!" He whirled around and advanced on Cliff. "Because of _us,_ two innocent people have thrown away their lives, and all you can say is 'shut up' for like what, the 4th time?! Have you two no heart at all?"

Cliff grabbed Fayt and yanked him up by the collar until the boy's feet dangled off the ground. Fayt's resolve faltered the slightest bit from the intensity of Cliff's furious stare.

"Don't you **_dare_** insinuate things about me! You don't even know me, so quit being such a self-centered brat and **_think_** about the bigger picture for once!" Cliff released Fayt and gave him a hard shove.

"What's done is done and we can't do anything about it but move forward. Staying out here in the open isn't safe. What if the Dragon Brigade realize they've been led astray and turn back?" Cliff was staring down at the silent Fayt now. He shoved him again.

"Do you want Tynave and Farleen's sacrifice to be in vain?!"

Fayt's head snapped up at that, suddenly feeling ashamed. Although he hated to admit it, everything that Cliff said was absolutely right. He really ought to consider giving the older man more credit for his insight. Damn it, he hated this feeling. He felt so lost, useless, and trapped.

"How – " Nel and Cliff looked to him nervously. "H-How far are we from Kirlsa." They found themselves sighing in relief.

"Not too far I believe. Why?" asked Nel with a tilt of her head.

Meanwhile, the cold, biting winds continued their relentless assault on the party of three. The temperature had dropped significantly since they left Airyglyph. Being a Klausian, Cliff was able to withstand the harsh temperatures and Nel had probably grown used to the climate, but Fayt didn’t. The poor teen shivered violently and had wrapped his arms around himself in a bid to provide _some_ form of warmth, although it didn't help the Earthling at all.

Shaking off her suspicions, Nel placed a hand on Fayt's shoulder in a display of concern. Although they couldn't exactly see eye-to-eye, that didn't mean she had completely no heart. When Fayt faced her, she offered him a wry smile.

"I'm sorry, Fayt, but could you try to hold on a little longer? It won't be long before we reach Kirlsa. It's at the base of these mountains, so it should get warmer as we go down."

Too cold to say anything, all Fayt could do was nod. His response was enough to satisfy her.

"Good. We better pick up the pace if we want to reach by nightfall. Cliff, stop staring. Let's move."

Said blonde simply gawked after her, watching her set the pace with Fayt trailing obediently behind her. He recalled Fayt's earlier suspicions about the woman and Cliff couldn't help but acknowledge them in silence. After all, Nel had experienced one crazy mood swing from another. He knew a mask when he saw one, and this protector of theirs was definitely wearing one. She was worried about something, and he was willing to bet all the clothes he had on that it hadn't anything to do with Tynave and Farleen.

After what seemed like forever, they finally made it to the town's entrance. If Fayt had been in the right state of mind, he would have jumped and cried out to the heavens in pure, unbridled joy; but no, he wasn't feeling well, not the slightest. He felt dizzy and his head throbbed with excruciating pain. Nausea crept up his throat, but he pushed it down in defiance. His vision interchanged between stark white and normal, and parts of his body started to feel strangely numb. Every word that left Nel and Cliff's mouths as they conversed, felt like a million bricks hammering on his skull. Either way, he felt like his brain was on the verge of imploding.

Pausing in his stride, he bent over and squatted on the ground, hands flying to his head in an effort to stifle the pain. A soft groan escaped the confines of his throat, one that he had desperately tried to oppress. Perhaps all these catastrophic events were finally taking its toll on him.

"Yo, Fayt. _Fayt!_ What's wrong? You gonna throw up or something?" Cliff hovered over him as worry flooded his features. He offered a hand only to have it smacked away.

"I'm fine," said Fayt, but it came out more like a pathetic gurgle.

Nel rolled her eyes in exasperation. This kid was more trouble than he was worth.

"Well, you don't _look_ fine," pressed Cliff, growing rather anxious by now.

Fayt couldn't even hold onto his sword, the blade lying on the ground by his fingers.

"Hm… The trip must have worn you out; the drastic change in temperatures tend to do that." Nel observed, earning her a stubborn glare from the teen.

Fayt _really_ didn't need this sort of unwanted attention, especially from the two people who had supposedly turned his peacefully normal life upside down.

"I said I'm fine. I'm not a baby, geez!" he grouched while standing to his feet, forcing himself forward towards Kirlsa.

Cliff and Nel stared at each other from the corner of their eyes and shrugged. It seemed neither one of them felt particularly thrilled to deal with a cranky, stubborn, teenage boy so late in the evening. And then, much to their amusement, said boy hadn't taken more than five steps, before collapsing on a wooden crate just past the town gates. Oh well, so much for manly bravado.

They stood around him and smirked – well, Cliff did anyway. Nel was busy pointing at some nearby building and relaying some instructions.

"There's an inn over there," she gestured to a homely-looking establishment with an old wooden signboard hanging over its entrance. "We'll stay there for the night. If I had my way, we'll be heading for Arias right now – she glanced piteously at the youngest member of their group – However, Fayt's in no condition to proceed – "

"I said I'm fine!" He went ignored.

"So, we'll leave first thing in the morning. I suggest you two get some rest. I have to - "

There was a loud _'thump!'_ and when she and Cliff looked down, they realized Fayt had collapsed onto the cobblestone road. The teenager was out like a light. Nel let out a long, aggravated sigh and brought a hand up to massage her temples. 'I'm fine' indeed. Cliff chuckled and dragged the boy up from under his arms. He winked at Nel, who raised an eyebrow in question.

"Help me with his legs, will you? Two's a lot faster than one."

Nel stared at him incredulously for a good two seconds, chanced a few furtive glances around the vicinity, before going to the blonde's aid. In her heart, she prayed no Glyphian soldier would spot them in such a compromising position. As she walked backwards with Fayt's legs in her hands and a triumphant Cliff grinning dashingly at her, she couldn't help but wonder how she ended up stuck babysitting a pair of idiots, who were far too much trouble than they were worth.

* * *

 "Aww… he's sleeping like a baby. The kid's far cuter when he's quiet, don't you think?" Cliff cooed, casually wrapping an arm around Nel's shoulders as they watched Fayt sleep.

The immediate contact combined with the blonde's forwardness, caused Nel to twitch in irritation. She smashed an open palm against Cliff's cheek and shoved him away. Her cheeks had gone a bright red and she willed herself to place as much distance between them as possible, least she castrated the blonde in her fury and embarrassment.

"I'm going out," she huffed indignantly, turning to leave the men's room. Cliff snickered after her, which made her visibly bristle.

"Where to?" A smirk slowly made its way across his lips. "And you're just going to leave us here? Not worried we'll run away?"

"I'm meeting an informant stationed in town, I shouldn't be long." She answered, returning the smirk confidently. "And I doubt Fayt's in any condition to go anywhere for now. Besides – her smirk turned into a sweet smile – I trust you."

The rare sight of her smile caused Cliff to blush in surprise and he quickly turned his head away in embarrassment.

"Aw, why did you have to go and say something like that? Now we _can't_ run away," he whined, staring at her helplessly. "You're evil."

A giggle was all Nel offered in return as Cliff laughed it off.

"How's your face? The kid didn't hit you too hard did he? Because I believe he's way overdue for a good smack in return."

"No, I'm alright." She offered him a sideways smirk. "Besides, I barely felt it. I'm a lot tougher than I look."

"Yeah, I know. Either that or Fayt hits like a total pansy."

Nel only shook her head in amusement before proceeding down a flight of stairs, which led to the lobby. However, she seemed to remember something, making her stop halfway. She turned to glance up at a curious Cliff.

"Hey, Cliff?" she began hesitantly. "Earlier on the Traum Mountains… there was this blue glow over Fayt's forehead and… a pulse. Did you see it?"

Cliff's eyebrows arched up comically.

"Blue glow? Pulse? _… Fayt?_ " he echoed in disbelief, only to burst out laughing.

"Nel, are you hearing yourself?" His laughter died down as a warm smile danced across his eyes. "The journey must have worn you out. Go do what you have to do and come back quickly to rest, yeah? Don't make me worry about you too."

Nel's heart fluttered a little at Cliff's admission.

"Yes, that may be it. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have worried you like that."

"Nah _,_ don't beat yourself over it."

She glanced at him shyly. "Alright, I'm leaving now… I'll see you later?"

Cliff nodded, watching her go. It was only when Nel had left the inn that he allowed his smile to fade, dropping the act completely.

* * *

Twilight fell upon Peterny and all was silent within the modest house, save the soft humming from Ameena as she sat on her bed hard at work on her Palmira Wishing Charm. The girl had lit a few candles in her room in preparation for nightfall. In the next room on the floor, sat Roger, who was hurriedly stuffing some apples into his backpack in preparation to leave. He had already informed Ameena of his desire to travel to Airyglyph and seek out the strange machine that crashed there and to also, hopefully, meet up with someone he hadn't seen in months. The girl had greatly supported his quest and even insisted on giving him some money to which, after she threatened to shove it down his pants, Roger had grudgingly accepted. He felt terrible and immensely guilty taking her hard-earned money like that, but she claimed that keeping his promise would be payment enough.

"Grr… come on… just a lil more… _gotcha!_ "

The bag looked about ready to burst at its seams, but it held out surprisingly well against all the food. Roger hooked the catch and after much difficulty, hauled the massive backpack onto his little shoulders. Unfortunately, taking a step forward only resulted in him tipping over backwards from the weight. His arms and legs flailed wildly in the air as he struggled to get up the right way, feeling very much like a tortoise.

"Aw, _come on!_ Ya gotta be kidding me… Ameennaaaaaa! Ameena, _heeelllllpppp!"_

Roger ceased his struggles however, when his cries went unanswered. He craned his neck to look down the dark hall that led to Ameena's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar and a thin sliver of light peaked from within, casting a dim glow in the common area. Things seemed peaceful enough, would appear ordinary even to a normal person, but the frantic twitching of the Menodix's ears suggested otherwise.

With a sudden burst of strength, Roger rolled to his feet and hobbled quickly to the bedroom, throwing the door open so violently that it banged against the nearby wall, rattling its hinges. The boy stood at the entrance with wide eyes. The yellow backpack he had on crashed noisily onto the ground, pots and pans tumbling out along with various other provisions. But Roger paid it no heed as he rushed straight for his hostess who was coughing madly.

Ameena lay on the bed, curling in on herself as she coughed continuously into her hand. Gripped loosely in her free hand, was the incomplete chain of Palmira flowers, which shook every time a violent cough wrecked through her frail body. Roger yanked the flowers from her and threw them aside, then he climbed onto the bed and pulled her other hand away fro her mouth, only to recoil in shock at the sight of all that blood. Pupils dilating in fear, Roger sat completely still, his body suddenly numb at the prospect of danger. He was vaguely reminded of the time Melt got injured during the fight in the caverns, the time his best friend needed him most and he simply stood there gawking and stuttering like an idiot. Now, it was happening again and there was no Nel, no Lezard, _no one_ to help Ameena, but him.

'Dang it, body, **_move!_ ' **Roger urged desperately, shaky hands reaching out to grasp Ameena's shoulders to turn her around so that she lay on her back. His hands continued to shake as he moved them to hover over her chest, one hand clasped on top of the other. He closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate.

'Ok, ya got this, Roger. Ya got this. Remember what Nel used ta say: direct all focus ta the palms and push it all out. Focus… focus…'

A pale green glow gathered at his palms, but just when the energy reached its peak, the brilliant green light crackled and disintegrated.

" _Dang it!"_ Roger cursed in frustration, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

He tried it over and over, but his efforts yielded zero results; while Ameena's breath grew harsher and harsher by the second. _No!_ He couldn't give up, he wouldn't! Ameena needed him, she only had him to rely on and he couldn't let her down, not like how he did Melt and his friends in the past. He promised her he'd take her to Surferio once the war was over. He _had_ to save her, see to it that she saw the village with her own two eyes. He wouldn't abandon her like how she hadn't abandoned him.

This was a job only a _real man_ could do.

' _Focus… focus…'_

"R-Roger…?"

His eyes snapped open to stare at the frightened girl, who wheezed as she forced herself to speak.

"C-Can't… breathe…" she gazed up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "H-Help… Roger, I'm s-scared…"

And that was all it took for Roger's resolve to harden, giving his all as he worked his magic on the brunette with newfound confidence. The light beneath his palms shone brilliantly, spreading its warmth across the expanse of Ameena's breast. As the green glow washed over her, she immediately felt a whole lot calmer and her heart and lungs didn't feel like they were on fire any more. The frown on her face relaxed and her breathing was steady once more. With the pain gone, a soothing sensation remained from the after effects of Roger's healing, lulling her weary mind into the beckoning fog of dreamless slumber.

When the worst was finally over, Roger released a loud sigh he didn't know he had been holding in, and slumped backwards in exhaustion. He had never done a full-body healing before, and it had been quite some time since he last practiced this particular ability. Not to mention he wasn't a trained doctor, so he hadn't been sure which part to focus his energy on. So he ended up taking the high road and healed everything.

Man, was he beat.

"Roger…?" Ameena whispered, successfully getting his attention. "What… did you just do?"

"Simple. I healed ya," he replied, drawing the quilt up to Ameena's chin as he tucked her in. "It kinda sucks though. All the other humanoids have _waaaayyy_ cooler powers. Like my best friend can summon fire golems, and my other best friend can do this cool thing with the earth…" Roger trailed off, crest-fallen; his ears drooped.

"Ya know, I'm actually the Prime Minister’s son, but everyone just laughs at me. No one actually believes I can take over my pops when the time comes."

Ameena reached up and scratched behind his ear affectionately. "Well, I think it's a _wonderful_ skill, and you know what?"

Roger frowned curiously. "What?"

"I believe in you. Does my vote count for something?"

Roger regarded her with a blank stare, before a wide grin gradually spread across his lips. This girl was really something special.

When Ameena's eyelids slid shut, he hopped off the bed and padded towards the door as quietly as possible. He halted in mid-stride however, when he heard the brunette call out to him softly.

"Are… Are you leaving for Airyglyph now?" She sounded worried.

"What, are ya stupid or summin?" he replied with a smirk, turning around to face her. "As if I could leave ya after what just happened. I'm just gonna go fetch you some water from the well."

At the Menodix's explanation, Ameena simply indulged in a rare moment of childishness, pulling the quilt over her head only to lower it a little, peaking coquettishly over the edge. Her eyes darted about hesitantly.

"Um… about the water…" She blushed and pulled the covers closer, muffling her speech a little. "Actually, could you just stay here? At least until I fall asleep? I… I don't want to be alone."

Roger's expression softened at her shy admission. He pushed a chair next to her bed and climbed onto it. Then he folded his arms and tucked his chin against his neck. Ameena smiled gratefully and closed her eyes.

"Thanks. Goodnight, Roger."

"G'night, Ameena."

"Roger?"

His eyes snapped opened and he lifted his head. "Yeah?"

That hesitant expression was back in her eyes. Ameena traced the sheets nervously with her fingers. "Are you leaving… tomorrow?"

Roger snickered and gave her shoulder a gentle pat.

"I'll still be here when ya wake up in the morning, don't ya worry. I won't leave ya."

"Promise?"

Roger paused to stare at the delicate pinkie that emerged from beneath the quilt covers, the lone digit like a beacon of hope amidst the vast darkness. It inspired a particular memory from his past - a promise he had strived to uphold, despite the Aquarian's cold rejection; an empty promise that seemed to grow less and less substantial as the days, weeks, months went by. He didn't know what he was chasing after anymore, if his journey contained any purpose to begin with. He had been waiting anxiously all this time for a sign, but what would that entail? If he _did_ manage to find Nel, could he even convince her to give up whatever mission she had and come home? Would he be able to make her remember, or had he already become nothing but a distant memory to her? Just a kid who didn't understand a thing about war?

Roger didn't know anymore, but _this_ – he stared at Ameena's pinkie – this was something he could hold onto, that he knew he actually had the power to keep and protect. He hooked his own pinkie with hers.

"I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve always liked Ameena and wanted to give her a more important role in this story. I hope it was a reasonable attempt. Plus, she’s really such a sweet and inspiring character, I figured Roger could learn a thing or two from her and be the real man he wants to be. 
> 
> Please pop a review if you like my story. I’m always eager to hear comments on my writing or the story in general. Also, if you have any burning questions, feel free to include them in your review and I will respond to them in the following update.


	6. One Step Forward, One Step Back

"Roger, no! I said you didn't have to!"

"And I said not ta worry 'bout it," said the stubborn Menodix, who scurried under the table when Ameena made a grab for her flower basket once more. She pouted while he snickered and stuck out his tongue playfully.

"Sick people oughta be restin', not workin'! Ya gotta _really_ have rocks fer brains if ya think I'd let ya go after what happened last night." He pounded his chest with his free hand, a smug grin on his face.

"Besides, it's the least I can do in return for yer help. Just sit tight and leave this job ta a real man!"

Ameena stared at him dubiously for a moment, before bursting out into a fit of giggles. The sight was hilarious: Roger stood with one of her old shawls wrapped around his head, an apron tied to his front, and a basket of flowers slung over his arm; while he went on about his habitual "real man" speeches. He raised an eyebrow in question, steadily growing annoyed by her giggling.

"Hey, whatcha laughing 'bout, huh? Summin I said?"

Ameena shook her head, clutching her stomach. How could she go about telling him that with that red shawl draped over his head, he looked like 'Little Red Riding Hood'? Or the fact that the flowers complimented his pouty lips and adorable pink cheeks, or that the cream apron with a pink daisy print on its front pocket, made him look effeminately domesticated. All in all, totally unmanly.

She considered telling him that the way he dressed right now seriously placed a damper on his style, but decided against it, taking pleasure in how _adorable_ the humanoid boy looked. She was laughing so hard that she choked, causing her to let out a few dry coughs. Catching herself, she glanced at Roger, who smirked in triumph.

" _See?_ " He tutted, wagging his finger at her. "Still sick as a dog."

He snagged an apple from a nearby fruits basket while making his way towards the front door.

"I'm supposed ta go around the whole town, right?" he called over his shoulder in-between bites. Ameena sighed, relenting.

" _Oh_ , alright…" She plopped down on a chair. "Yes, that's right. I usually make about four rounds, but it depends on the crowd. Start at the town square and slowly make your way to the east and west sides."

"Got it!" She smiled at his enthusiasm.

"By the way, Peterny's a notorious spot for gossipers. Perhaps you might find out something about that strange machine that fell in Airyglyph?"

Roger's eyes shone in glee, the large chocolate-brown pools unblinking.

" _R-Really?_ Sweet! Ya really think I could find out summin?"

Ameena shrugged her shoulders casually. "I don't see why not. You'd be surprised how fast news travels here. Although… some might sound rather bogus, so do take care in what you choose to believe."

"Wow, thanks!" Roger glanced at the window and gave a start at how bright it had already gotten. " _Yikes!_ Gotta go! See ya later!"

With that, the humanoid zipped towards the door, turned the knob and flung it open. He was eager to get an early start, especially since people tended to do their marketing around this time, and more people meant more gossip. Even though he couldn't make it to Airyglyph, at least being stuck in Peterny had its strong points too.

"Ah! Roger, remember what we talked about earlier? If anyone asks – "

"I'm just Ameena's friend comin' over fer a visit and giving her a hand – I know, I know, _sheesh!"_ he muttered with a roll of his eyes.

Granted, gossip travelled incredibly fast here; but wasn't the girl being a little _too_ paranoid? This slight change was only temporary, if not only for today, so what was the big deal? Were the townspeople _that_ paranoid about new faces?

"Oh, and Roger?"

" _What now?"_ He resisted a groan. H _really_ wanted to leave right now.

A mischievous grin spread across Ameena's lips, leaking into her eyes. She hid her laughter behind her hand.

"Oh, nothing… Just that you make one cute Flower Girl."

The reaction was immediate: Roger's face heated up, crimsoning so violently that he looked like he might actually pass out from the amount of blood rushing to his face. An embarrassed scowl entered his features, making him wish he had just high-tailed out of here when he had the chance. Instead, he tried to salvage his pride and dignity with the one comeback he could think of right now.

"Aw, shut up!"

* * *

Fayt groaned and sat up, slowly taking in his new surroundings as he held his head. The room he was in was not only terribly unfamiliar, but small too, with bits of whitewashed wood chipping from the floorboards and a few cracks in the dull grey stonewalls. When he sat up more, his head crashed against something solid above him, and it took him a few seconds to register that he was currently on the lower bunk of a double-decker bed.

 _Gods._ He had to stop passing out and waking up in strange new places. He felt like he went through amnesia twice for crying out loud!

Stepping out of bed, Fayt did a few stretches, working out the kinks in his stiff muscles. He sighed in pleasure when he felt his body relax, only to give a start when he heard his shoulders pop. Ok… that didn't sound too good, but it helped. How long had he been asleep anyway?

A quick glance out the window indicated about mid-afternoon, making Fayt feel even more disoriented. He had slept nearly half the day away… _how_? Sure, he could recall short glimpses from yesterday's events - how they were chased by the Dragon Brigade, how his body had felt _so damn bad_ _everywhere_ , how they finally reached Kirlsa, and then… nothing. Probably the exact moment he passed out from the fatigue, or the pain, or the stress, or _something._

The distinct absence of Cliff's gruff and forward voice confirmed that he was very much alone and very much confused as to what he should do from here.

'Urgh. Thanks a lot, Cliff,' Fayt thought to himself gloomily as he scratched the back of his head. A loud sigh escaped his mouth. 'Guess there's no point staying here… Might as well walk around and check this "Kirlsa" out.'

He approached the wall where his sword was leaning against, contemplating whether he should take it with him. But when he remembered they were in Airyglyph territory, he decided to, just in case. As he tied the weapon to his hip, Fayt's mind started to wander… where were Nel and Cliff? It didn't make sense for either of them to just abandon him here like that without an explanation – seeing as he was apparently so "important" to their respective missions – neither did it seem likely that they got captured by enemy soldiers. He would undoubtedly have gotten abducted too if Cliff ran his big mouth as usual. Then there was the question of trust: did Nel really trust him _not_ to attempt an escape? Fayt sighed at that. Yes – yes, she did; because like it or not, he wasn't the kind of guy to back out of a deal no matter how inappropriate the terms may be. He was too honest for his own good, and Nel probably knew that as well if his self-righteous display back in the wagon had accounted for anything.

When he realized there was no other exit from this small room except a narrow stairway to the side, Fayt descended the stairs and found himself in an equally run-down, but more spacious room. Spotting a kindly looking raven-haired girl behind a desk, he figured he was at the lobby of a local inn. Simply brushing past her, he was about to step out to explore the town when a gentle, meek voice halted him in his stride.

"E-Excuse me, sir?"

Fayt whirled around and found that the voice belonged to the very girl stationed behind the front desk. She was twirling one of her plaits with a finger as she regarded him bashfully.

"Are you a Mister – she fumbled at the guest book – Fayt Leingod?"

She let out a tiny squeal of delight when he nodded in acknowledgement, causing her to blush in embarrassment, catching herself. Fayt continued to stare at her weirdly, observing her cheeks growing redder the longer his gaze lingered, and for the life of him he couldn't understand why.

"S-Sorry," the girl apologized, clearing her throat. The blush was still there though. "I h-have a message for you… From your blonde friend?"

That seemed to have gotten Fayt's attention, who moved to stand in front of her.

"Yeah, that's for me all right," he said with a chuckle and a shake of his head. "What does he want?"

He frowned, confused when the raven-haired girl squeaked and avoided his gaze when he addressed her. Was he being too intrusive perhaps? He backed up a bit and to his relief she began speaking.

"He said that he'd be gone for a while and that you're free to walk about as long as you return by sunset." She paused and held up a dark red bag tied close with a string.

"Also, your other friend, the pretty red haired lady, wants you to have this. There's about 5,000 fol in there for you to fix up your weapon and armor, or get something to eat. We have an armorer and outfitter just one street down from here, and a grocer and tavern not too far from them."

Fayt thanked her and accepted the bag, offering her a grateful smile before exiting the inn.

Unbeknownst to him however, the girl's polite disposition melted away once he had departed, her face taking on a giddy, almost lovesick expression. She cupped her cheeks and twirled around on the spot, giggling madly to herself. She _knew_ it - oh she just knew it! The boy was even _more_ handsome awake than he was asleep. Those enchanting emerald eyes; his brilliant and oh-so-unique blue hair; the _perfect_ lean, muscular physique; and that gorgeous smile – _oh,_ she definitely had to write to her friends in Peterny about this! After all, it wasn't every day a cute guy walked through your front door and gave you that _one perfect smile_ that would make _any_ girl's day.

* * *

A tall man with a lean, muscled build, donned in revealing royal purple garments, emerged from Peterny's East-side inn. Despite the skeptical and seemingly dubious military apparel, the figure-hugging material complimented and emphasized the shape and form of his masculinity deliciously. He wore a metal-and-chain collar around his neck and had on metallic shoulder guards; a katana was attached to his hip. The man was incredibly handsome, but the dark and distant impression he gave off was enough to make wandering, hopeful eyes turn away. His two-toned hair was a combination of blonde and black, framing his sharp features in an attractive manner; and ending at the back of his knees in a pair of rat-tails wrapped in bandages.

Piercing vermillion eyes scanned his surroundings, only to cringe at the overflowing aura of extreme _happiness_ that pervaded the air. Oh how he hated Peterny. This god-forsaken town was too bright and cheerful for its own good. People here were too indulgent and eager to share _everything_ with others – and this was exactly why he came here in the first place. In a town packed with gossip mongers and suspicious neighbors that both praised and bad-mouthed each other in their hunger for drama and social scandal, there was an exceedingly probable chance that he could gather some clues regarding the rogue humanoid's current whereabouts. Asking around actively was simply out of the question for it would draw unwanted suspicion onto himself, which would then snowball into a whole new flurry of rumors. No, he couldn't risk giving away his position or intentions.

Albel Nox, upon receiving the full report from his informant, had promptly dismissed the young spy and relieved him of his duties – permanently. He still glowered at the unfortunate prospect of him hadn't finding the time to clean off the fool's blood from his blade yet… Damn, that'd leave a rust.

Oh, the man had done nothing wrong; Albel just wanted to make sure no one else knew of his plans but himself alone. He'd rather not face persecution from the king before he saw his plan through till the end. Besides, his foolish, trusting sire was too preoccupied in siding with his uncle to realize he was being led willy-nilly on the man's leash. There was a faster way to end this pointless war and it was a quick and painless surrender from the Aquarians once they realized the Sanmite Republic – the only neutral party– had turned their backs on them as well. And with him pulling the strings, he saw no reason the Republic and himself couldn't pull off a convincing act to ensure Airyglyph's victory against those spineless Aquarians.

'But first, that humanoid…' Albel reminded himself, eyes darting about in caution as he made his way towards the town square.

He was technically wandering in enemy territory, what with Peterny being the center of commerce for Aquaria, so he had to keep as low a profile as he could manage. This was the exact reason he left his gauntlet in the inn - he was too recognizable with it on, having earned quite the reputation from it. Instead, a fresh wrapping of bandages covered his entire arm and the base of his fingers.

When he made it to the town square, he was slightly taken aback by the impressive variety of stalls set up and the insane crowd of shoppers and vendors that traversed around Peterny - purchasing, bargaining, and promoting their goods alike. The hustle and bustle was overwhelming compared to the slow-moving, almost scarce economy in Airyglyph, making Albel feel slightly resentful and jealous of the opposing nation's prosperity. However, he waved that thought away, convincing himself that all these would belong to his kingdom soon enough.

"Hmm… Somewhere inconspicuous; yet prominent for conversation…"

He made a quick mental checklist of probable places that fitted such a description.

It was then that he noticed a quaint little café set up right smack in the middle of the central plaza. A quick observation revealed a high turnover rate and increased tendency for gossiping patrons to both sit around or pass through said café in lively conversation. Perfect. The more people came and went by, the less likely for news to repeat itself or concentrate on the same topic. Furthermore, it was an open-air café, which meant he could keep both his eyes and ears peeled for anything concerning his mission.

As he took his seat, the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread and piping hot stew wafted through his nose, stirring the slightest bit of hunger in him; his throat felt parched. He realized he hadn't had anything to eat or drink since he left the royal city. Well, at least actually patronizing this café would draw even less attention to him compared to simply sitting around doing nothing. He raised his hand and motioned a cheerful waitress over.

'Better assume a different persona.' He forced a flirtatious smirk as he rested an elbow on the table top, cradling his head. He angled his face just right and narrowed his eyes in an attractive leer at the young maiden to convey his seeming interest in her. To his great pleasure, she bought it immediately.

"A-Ah! Y-Yes sir, what will it be?" The girl blushed and stuttered profusely, nearly dropping her quill and order pad twice. Albel had to resist a smirk. This was _too_ easy.

"I have _no idea_ , sweetheart. Why don't you recommend something?" He did everything in his power to tolerate the blustering wench as she prattled on about everything on the menu from A – Z.

" _Actually_ – the waitress stopped speaking immediately – I just wanted to talk to you. I couldn't help but notice how lovely you are and thought I'd try my luck for some of your precious time. You're…" he trailed off with a suggestive edge to his voice, raking his gaze languidly over her from top to toe. "Well now, aren't you a tempting sight."

The redness shot up the girl's face faster than smoke rising up a chimney. Her stuttering increased tenfold and her hands shook as she sought to maintain her grip on the quill and order pad. Her gaze shifted back and forth between a smirking Albel to her boss behind the counter. She'd be _damned_ if she passed up a chance like this! Furthermore, this guy, whoever he was, practically _oozed_ **hot** and **sexy** and **oh so fine**. And for the love of Apris, if she were to lose her virginity, it would _soooo_ be to this walking wet dream right here.

She lowered her lashes seductively and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "I get off work at 5. In the meantime, why don't I whip up something nice for you to eat and drink? It's on me."

Albel let out a low, sensual chuckle, reaching out to twirl a lock of the waitress' hair around a finger. He leaned in close, hot breath ghosting over the shell of her ear, responding in kind, "I'll be waiting, sweetheart. Don't disappoint me."

He released her and watched in amusement as the young waitress scurried off, banging into tables and ignoring the other angry, impatient customers as she went. Albel reclined on his chair, contented by the prospect of a free meal in exchange for some _fun_ tonight. He suppressed the cruel laughter that threatened to burst from his throat at the mere thought of that wench's stupidity and her ludicrous hopes and dreams. Her body wasn't even worth the dirt beneath his boot. Women would believe everything an attractive stranger suggested, as long as they thought they'd scored a good fuck for the night or for life.

 _Bah!_ He'd leave before 5.

Albel sat in silence with his eyes closed, feigning indifference, while his ears greedily absorbed the contents of whatever conversation that transpired around him. The first 5 minutes were rather dull and uneventful - ordinary, insignificant gossip involving some local bandits called the "Moon Shadow Clan" or whatever pathetic, unimaginative name they went by.

There were also a few differing conversations regarding the recent shuttle crash in Airyglyph. Things had sounded pretty accurate at first from the description of a blue haired boy (Albel chose to ignore the unanimous opinion relating to the boy's stunning good looks) discovered within the object, but the contrary depictions of the boy's blonde partner ranged from a giant, yellow monster with bulky arms capable of smashing solid stone, to a really large golden retriever. And then the rumors of Airyglyph's ruler killing the boy and adopting the puppy (which had somehow grown an affinity to military life and doubled-up as a combat puppy) and naming it "Fluffy"… Ok, this was getting ridiculous.

A middle-aged woman and her old mother settled down at the table next to him and immediately launched into lively chatter about an adorable new Flower Girl in town.

"She was so cute and got all fired up when I told her so, I just _had_ to buy a rose from her." The woman let out a forlorn sigh. "Oh, if only little Martha could be as adorable instead of playing tag with those boys all the time… it's so unbecoming of a girl!"

The old woman nodded sagely, sipping her tea, "Indeed, indeed… But darling, I think he was a boy?"

"Nonsense, mother! How could a boy be _so cute?_ "

Albel growled and rolled his eyes. Boy, girl – he _**did not care**_. Why were people so stupid? Why wasn't anyone talking about the humanoid? And why was his food taking so bloody long?

And then, he overheard something interesting from a group of half-drunk, ruddy-faced men a few tables down. What possessed them to indulge in alcohol at 1pm in the freaking afternoon was beyond him. It wasn't particularly difficult to catch what they were saying; they _were_ exceptionally boisterous after all.

"I 'ear 'at them blokes ran off ter Kirrrrlllsssaaaa…" one man slurred as he took another swing from his beer mug.

"Yeah, an' wit' some hot Aquarian red head too!" said another, slapping his thigh with a jolly cry. "Ho, ya know how them Aquarian babes dress! Man would I _love_ ter get me a piece'a _that!"_

Albel's eyes narrowed in displeasure, his grip on the table growing harsh as his nails dug into the sun burnt wood. It wasn't so much of the crude way the man had addressed his desires, but the topic of discussion.

Nel- _fucking_ -Zelpher. He should have known that hardheaded bitch would enter the playing field sooner or later. She and her little friends had interfered with his men and his missions far too frequently for his liking. Granted, she was Aquaria's best, but she was no worthy rival of his and even more of an eyesore than these dumpy peasant folk around him. So, it seemed she managed to breach Storm Brigade defenses and snuck those so-called pilots out - what's the big deal? What could a pair of foreigners possibly do to help Aquaria against the combined forces of Airyglyph's military cavalries, their influence over the Air Dragons, and soon the Republic, except to face an utterly humiliating defeat? Whatever they were planning had failure written all over it. The way he saw it, the odds were never in their favor to begin with.

Humph, so much for their faith in god.

"Hey, mister!"

' _Finally!'_ Albel thought and was just about to reprimand that useless waitress for her tardiness, only to stop short when his eyes met nothing but the scenery before him. An uncharacteristic stare of utmost confusion painted his features. But he just heard – wasn't there some one – there was a _voice_ …

He swore this town was doing crazy things to his brain.

"Down here! _Helloooo?"_ came the spunky, confident voice this time laced with a hint of impatience.

And so, in order to sate his curiosity, Albel looked down.

And then he snorted and turned away.

Red Riding Hood in a fruit tart. Cute.

" _Geez!_ What crawled up yer keester and died?"

The Glyphian did everything in his power to resist his customary eye-roll. As much as he yearned to be a royal dick and give this bothersome brat a piece of his tortured mind, he didn't. He was blending in and when Albel blended in, he _really_ blended in.

He had no idea when was the last time he worked his cheek muscles. God, it hurt. It hurt so bad.

"My _apologies_ …" his eyes racked the child's frame critically, "little girl."

" _Excuuuuse me?_ Do I _sound_ like a girl ta ya? C'mon, I dare ya! I dare ya ta look me in the eye and say that again!"

And somehow, he managed to offend the brat when he was actually trying to be _nice._ Would today's wonders ever cease?

The corner of Albel's eye twitched as he fought to maintain his smile. If only he had a mirror, then he would be able to see how distorted and thoroughly unconvincing his expression had become.

"I'm afraid now isn't the right time – he took a shot in the dark – _boy._ I get rather sour when my meal gets delayed." His eye twitched again when he realized the kid was still there staring at him expectantly. "… Can I help you?"

The flower girl – _boy_ , flashed him a cheeky grin and the Glyphian swordsman spied a tiny snaggle-tooth peeking out from the child's mouth.

"I'm helpin' a friend!"

No response.

"Helpin' her sell flowers!"

Still no response.

"I'm Roger by the way!" he offered his hand in a friendly shake. "What's yer name, mister?"

Albel raised an eyebrow in pure condescend. Roger withdrew his hand uneasily and cleared his throat. Talk about a tough customer…

"Y-Ya know what would make ya feel better?"

Albel's expression was positively nonplussed. "You disappearing permanently and leaving me the hell alone?"

The kid actually snorted, which displeased him greatly.

"No, ya moron! A flower!" And for emphasis, a lovely crimson rose was shoved under his nose so quickly that it made him go nearly cross-eyed. He noticed the thorns had been trimmed and the rose wasn't in full bloom yet.

In order to get the flower out of his face, Albel snatched it begrudgingly and stared at it with as much contempt one would towards a potential mother-in-law. He decided to ignore the 'moron' comment to avoid causing a scene.

"This cheap plant will vastly alleviate my mood, _how?_ " he said in a noncommittal drawl, vaguely wondering in the back of his mind why he even bothered patronizing this child in the first place. The boy simply shrugged.

"Dunno. Maybe ya could eat it or summin… 100 fol please!"

Albel nearly whacked him with said flower. "I _will not_ pay 100 fol for a rose!"

"Man you're cheap."

"I am _not_ being cheap, you _worm!_ You just marked up its value by 90%!"

Albel threw the rose on the table in a huff. This was getting ridiculous. There was no sign or word about a wandering humanoid, his food was taking an obscenely long time to be prepared, and to top it all off, he found himself unwillingly entertaining this aggravating, amateur flower-scammer. The thought of leaving this godforsaken town was extremely tempting. He was chasing a cold trail and wasting his time.

"Hey, mister…"

" _WHAT?"_ snapped Albel, turning sharply to glare down at the nervous and terrified boy. His expression and personality had clearly taken a 180-degree turn on the scary side.

The child swallowed audibly and with a shaky finger, pointed at the swordsman's fully bandaged left arm. His eyes had gone wide, his dark pupils swimming in something akin to horrific awe. Albel exhaled in exasperation, mentally cursing his glaring disability. This was usually the part where people cooed and coddled him, asking what had happened; who could be so cruel as to bestow such an injury to a "young" and "good-looking" man like him; if it hurt; if it was real; if it -

"Ain't it inconvenient for ya?"

"… What?" said Albel unintelligently, having not expected such a question in the slightest. This was… new.

The kid called Roger gestured at the bandaged arm in emphasis. He had an uneasy look on his face, his little nose twitching as if sensing the other's discomfort. His eyes looked both sad and confused all the same.

"I mean, ain't it a problem for ya ta wield yer sword… write… eat? You're left-handed, aren't ya?"

Albel's eyes widened in astonishment and he was just about to demand how the hell the nosy little brat knew that piece of personal information, until he remembered how he gripped and tossed that rose earlier. It was an insignificant action, bodily mechanics of daily habit that could have easily been missed; but this boy, Roger, caught it immediately. His observant nature, his actual, unbiased and heartfelt childish concern… this boy was different; and Albel couldn't exactly put his finger on it, but something was nagging at him at the back of his mind that there was more to this Roger than met the eye.

The Captain's eyes narrowed in suspicion, never letting his guard down. However his crimson gaze swam with unrestrained interest that even he himself failed to suppress completely.

An awkward pause.

"Yes…" Albel spoke with the slightest hint of uncertainty, his usual air of conviction absent. When Roger only offered him a small smile in response, he hesitated again. "… And to what does it concern you?"

Damn, this kid was rattling his composure.

Oblivious to the storm of confusion raging within the confines of the Glyphian's sanity, Roger moved to cross his arms smugly.

"Nuttin. I just realized yer sword is strapped ta ya left, which means ya probably use it with yer right hand, which means you're ambidextrous, which means ya must be a real skilled fighter!"

It amazed him how perceptive the boy was. Not every one could identify this little detail about a swordsman's wield. The boy probably either knew some general knowledge about combat, or had some first-hand experience of his own. He had to shake his head mentally at the latter thought. He was only a child; what would he know about combat and weaponry?

Albel had to restrain his surprise when the kid suddenly jumped on the seat opposite to stare at him with eyes that shone of triumph.

"Am I right? Am I right? C'mon, tell me I'm right!"

And that was when Albel found himself giving in, his brain and effectively his cold, rigid sense of judgment shutting down, making way for something foreign. Something he thought he had locked away forever. Something… warm.

He relaxed; feeling strangely contented. "You're…"

But before he could get another word out, the young waitress had returned in a flurry, carrying a large bowl of piping hot stew between her mitten-encased hands.

"Special order for my adorable, famished swordsman! Sorry for taking so long; the stew needed at least 15 minutes to – Ah! _"_

Much to Albel's grave disappointment, the stupid wench had been so excited to serve him that she tripped over her own feet. Unfortunately, he didn't count on the hot bowl flying out of her hands in a perfect arch, its steaming contents landing directly on his –

" _ARGHHHHH – MY ARM! WENCH!"_

The cry was as piercing as it was frightening, with the waitress cowering fearfully before a set of raging crimson eyes that spelt death, doom and ultimate agony in its swirling depths. Heads turned and by now, most people in the near vicinity had adverted their gaze to the source of the commotion.

" _YOU… FUCKING…_ _CLUMSY_ … _ungh_!" Forget it. The pain was so bad it was scrambling his brain, disrupting his coherency, damaging his pride.

If the stew had spilled on his right arm, perhaps he could still emerge with a ghost of a grimace. However, his left arm told a different story. The scarred appendage was his eternal physical vulnerability, a never healing wound that saw no end to his agony. A dragon's wrath should never be trifled with. He wasn't even deemed worthy to live; yet here he was in his father's place, paying the price for his insubordination.

He was gripping his arm so tightly; couldn't differentiate the pain between that action and the scalding his raw flesh undertook. It was a strain to keep his eyes open. All he wanted to do was surrender, to shut his lids and retreat somewhere where the stares of the masses could no longer follow him and his every move.

"I-I'm sorry. I – Let me help you. I'll get a wet towel," whimpered the waitress.

With as much strength as he could muster, Albel shoved her away with his uninjured hand. He didn't _need_ help. He wasn't _weak._

" _Grrr!_ Quit bein' a moron and lemme see that!"

Roger surged forward, thoroughly irritated by the older male's bravado, and frantically unwrapped the soaked bandages. The task proved arduous, what with the man struggling and resisting so passionately, but when they were finally off, he had to force himself to maintain his composure and not vomit out his entire breakfast. The raw wound smelled utterly revolting, like the putrid stench of a decaying carcass well into its third week of decomposition. How this man's arm was still very much alive and intact with the body went beyond Roger's understanding, but the slight tingling beneath his fingertips when he touched the arm hinted the barest traces of draconic magic. The man was cursed.

"You'll be ok. Just bear with me fer a bit," he consoled gently.

Albel struggled to speak, but when his tired eyes met determined hazel, he hated himself for succumbing to the pain.

He wasn't weak…

_A child stood before the surge of rushing flames, paralyzed with fear, eyes wide with unshed tears. The ceremonial circle beneath his feet had faded, his sword by his side in his limp hand. A large body moved forward._

" _Albel! Get behind me! Stay behind me!"_

He **couldn't** be weak.

" _Father!"_

_The man pulled the frail boy close, his embrace protective and desperate. The temperature around them rose to an unbearable level._

" _Don't look, Albel! Don't look!"_

" _But father – "_

" _Listen to me," the man's voice echoed around them, resonating with promise and purpose. The child felt a pair of chapped lips press against his forehead._

" _You're my son, and that's all the reason I'll ever need. That's why you will survive this. And no matter what happens, no matter what anyone will say from tomorrow on, I'm proud of you. I've never been more proud to have you as my son."_

_The last thing he felt was a cool wetness upon his face, before he screamed._

* * *

Hot.

Everywhere felt hot and his body burned with the heat of the memory, and the pain. But then, he heard a voice - it was steadily becoming clearer amidst the chattering townsfolk around him and the haunting echo of his father's words. Then, a new sensation washed over him in the gentlest of caresses, clearing his mind and easing the turmoil in his tortured heart. He felt so much lighter, calmer; the unbearable and raging heat chased away by a soothing cool that he yearned for to stay.

When he opened his eyes, he noticed two things: one, the crowd had gone silent and two, a faint green glow danced over the flesh of his now closed wound. He gasped; the kid was healing him.

Roger continued to focus his energies on the task at hand, doing his best to force out his abilities while allowing it to flow naturally at the same time. It was, least to say, difficult to heal someone else within such a short period after Ameena. On top of that, he wasn't used to exercising this particular ability of his.

The Menodix wondered why he was even bothering being this generous. After all, his main purpose of being here was to gather information about Nel's current whereabouts and the strange object that fell from the sky, _not_ play doctor to every Tom, Dick and Harry that passed him by. However, there was just something about this grumpy swordsman that screamed for his immediate attention. Perhaps it was how cool he looked with his dignified and graceful posture against this gaiety backdrop. Perhaps it was how inspiring he was despite his physical handicap. But more than anything, what Roger was absolutely sure of, was that the tall, broody man looked lonely. And when he screamed, it was one of desperation, not pain. He had wanted to fix that.

The green glow faded and he pulled away.

"There. That oughta do it! Now, about that 100 – " Roger paused, his eyes bulging in terror, throat going inexplicably dry.

Earlier, he had felt the slightest presence of a dragon's curse, but now his suspicions were confirmed, the discovery reaching its climax in a crescendo of horrors. On the swordsman's arm was a scar left as evidence from the healing, but instead of a normal mark, the scar took the shape of a dark red Air Dragon - the mark of a dragon knight. Roger scrambled to his feet and without saying another word to the stunned swordsman, fled the scene.

He had just helped a Glyphian soldier; his identity had been compromised. He and Ameena had to leave right now.

Back at the town square, Albel slowly rose to hit feet, feeling for the second time of his life, completely lost.

'What just happened?' he found himself wondering. Despite being somewhat disoriented, he was clear on the single fact that abilities such as the kid's were uncommon for both Glyphians and Aquarians. The only exceptions were the followers of the Holy Mother, descendants of Aquarian agents trained in runology, _or_ …

"Humanoids," Albel realized, but stopped himself from getting too carried away.

A theory was a theory; he needed to verify the facts. He fixed his gaze upon the forgotten rose on the tabletop and after much deliberation, took it between his fingers. He couldn't explain it, but he _had_ to find out who Roger really was.

At last, he had a lead.

His hunger now nothing but a distant memory, Albel turned towards the direction of his inn, but the meek, confused voice of the café waitress called out to him.

"S-Sir, wait! Um… what about our date?"

Albel didn't so much as spare her a parting glance.

"You're no use to me, worm. My interest lies in someone else."

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, Albel was so much fun to write because of his grumpy personality. And is that the hinting of an Albel/Roger I see?
> 
> Anyway, if you've enjoyed reading my story so far, do pop in a review. I'm always keen to hear what you guys think.


	7. Change of Heart

Ameena sat quietly and contently in her chair, threading flower after flower, dutifully adding to her Palmira Wishing Charm. Her fingers worked deftly with expert grace and precision, a task she threw her entire heart and soul into as she poured all her faith, longing, and hope into each and every perfect pink blossom in bloom. 700 Palmira flowers lined the string and counting. Five months of conviction, and she was just 300 or so flowers away from making her dreams come true. Her wish... it was but a simple one, an innocent request harbored deep within her heart from years past.

It was a common practice for the people of Aquaria to forge these chains of hope and salvation between the maker and the goddess who granted such wishes. In the past, people's wishes varied, but now, everyone extended their prayers to the heavens and the stars for this dreadful war to come to an end. Even _she_ carried a similar desire within her heart and soul. The core of her wish was simple: she just wanted to see him again, laugh and play languidly across the forest grass, hold his hand and feel the warmth seep into her body that had grown so cold over the years of waiting and tirelessly hoping.

"I miss you, Dion..."

It was a quiet whisper, nothing louder than the flight of burning ambers from the fireplace, but she knew the flowers heard it and that was all that mattered.

She never thought it possible to complete this charm before the year-end, but with Roger insisting she stay home, rest and actually focus on her recovery for once without worrying about work, this may actually turn out to be a good thing. With a content sigh and a quirk of her lips, Ameena leaned back against the chair and closed her eyes in peaceful bliss - the first time in recent years in fact. She could get used to this...

Suddenly, the door slammed open, striking the nearby wall.

"AMEENA! PROBLEM!"

... or not.

Roger yanked off his shawl, apron, and tossed the basket of flowers aside, before proceeding to pile up every piece of furniture he could get his hands on, against the door. The Menodix's complexion was pale, his eyes swimming with inexplicable distress. Even his tail stood on its end and was bristling like a cat's.

Placing the incomplete Palmira charm aside, Ameena held her skirt and rushed over to the hallway entrance, face awash with confusion.

"Roger, what happened?" Then she paused and covered her mouth with a hand. "You didn't offend anyone, did you? It's just that you really look like a girl…"

But whatever defense she had planned went ignored.

"Oh nuh uh – not even close!" He was gripping a flowerpot like his life depended on it. "I healed someone at the plaza!" Then he leapt up and clung onto the front of her dress, staring deep into her wide eyes. "Do ya know what that means? Do ya, do ya?!"

The boy sounded a little crazy. Ameena blinked a few times, before laughing him off.

"Oh, Roger, don't be silly. We're in Aquarian territory. No one's going to think it strange… they'd probably think you're a Runologist."

Roger shot her a dubious stare. She _had_ to be pulling his tail, right? He used to doubt the girl's reliability before, calling her a little bit of an airhead and all, and suffice to say, he still did.

"Or _maybe,"_ he stressed, panic returning, "He knows I'm a humanoid and was playin' nice, but was really huntin' me down!"

"He...?"

At Ameena's confused stare, it was clear as day that she completely had _no idea_ what in Apris he was talking about. But dagnabbit, now wasn't the time to remain calm! Far from it.

"Grrr! He's a Glyphian soldier, Ameena!" Roger yelled, gripping his head and stomping on the spot. "He had the scary dragon mark on his arm and everythin'!"

It was ironic really, how his selfless kindness ended up backfiring in his face. The handsome swordsman didn't seem so bad, was kind of cool actually, albeit cranky and a big meanie to that poor waitress. Honestly, it was an accident - a painful one, yes, but still it wasn't like it was the girl's intention to actually burn his already wounded arm... Ok, _maybe_ if he had been in the guy's place, he'd be really pissed too.

Ameena's eyes bulged at the mere mention of the dragon mark, jogging memories of old and stories from years past. She remembered when she was but a child in Airyglyph, when her parents were still alive as they led her towards the castle to witness the grand funeral procession of the late Glou Nox - Airyglyph's highest ranking military commander, Captain of the Dragon Brigade, and a beloved figure amongst the people. News behind his demise was no secret – he had sacrificed himself for his son's failure.

Back then, and perhaps even now, the act was unheard of. Never, in all Glyphian history, had a dragon rejected a member of the Dragon Brigade, even more alarming the heir of the Nox family. The Nox clan had blood ties with the draconian beasts for centuries. Even a baby born of Nox blood was said to have the power to resonate and communicate with the proud creatures. There was conspiracy in the air, talks of impurity and cursed misfortune; and the boy, who had been deemed unworthy, lived alone in a cocoon of shame and sorrow for the rest of his life.

Following the tragedy, Lord Vox, the Dragon Brigade's second-in-command took over and it was said Glou's son had to fight to prove his worth to retain at least some respectability in the castle. The boy grew up to be a ruthless, stone-cold murdering psychopath. Rumor had it he'd founded the Black Brigade, while some said he killed its real captain to claim the position himself. But whatever the stories were, one thing remained certain: the curse of the dragon never went away...

" _Yoohoo!_ Ameena? Any day would be nice!"

Roger waved his hand impatiently before her eyes. Ameena snapped out of it in an instant, flushing slightly in embarrassment.

"Sorry, I just remembered something." She turned serious brown eyes to the young Menodix. "Roger, can you remember how he looked like?"

Roger scratched his head, puzzled by Ameena's sudden question. One minute, she was struggling to wrap her mind around this sudden turn of events, and the next, she was going all serious on him. He heard that girls experienced mood swings every now and then - and his mama hadn't been the best source of comfort during her own little moods - but when Ameena did it, it seemed pretty scary. The flower maiden just seemed way too nice to _have_ any other mood except happy/content/carefree.

"Mmn… Real tall, long hair until his ankles… Some weird purple military getup and… Oh yeah, his entire left arm was bandaged. And before I healed him – phew! – that wound really stank!"

_That's him._

But why would the Captain of the Black Brigade risk everything to come to Peterny? She seriously didn't like where things were going. If that man got caught, he would undoubtedly be charged for treason. Aquaria would then have a reason to stake demands against Airyglyph. What could the swordsman want from Peterny that was so valuable, that he'd risk his head and nation's position in sneaking past Aquarian borders?

"Roger," she began hesitantly, "why are the humanoids banned from leaving the Sanmite Republic?"

"Guhh…" Roger scratched his head.

Come to think of it, he never really understood his pops' reasoning for that. The old man always said that if anyone spotted them in Aquaria or Airyglyph territory, it would signal the humanoids' involvement in the war. Though he never actually understood _how.._.

"Uh… I guess pops didn't want anyone ta get caught…"

And then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

The Glyphian _knew_ a humanoid had escaped Surferio. He was _hunting_ him. He wanted to _use him_ as leverage against his own people. The Sanmite Republic would be coerced into war all because of his lack of foresight and impulsive actions. Roger never thought his little journey would result in such tumulus risks like that. He had his axe, his equipment, his amazing disguise (well, it _was_ amazing until he blew his own cover), but when it came to stopping the war from escalating beyond its current capacity, when it came to placing his own people at risk, he had nothing. Some future minister he turned out to be.

The flowerpot fell from his hands and rolled onto the ground, soil spilling across the wooden floorboards. Roger was trembling like a leaf, his fingers quivering and his face assuming an unhealthy pallor. Ameena surged forward and grasped Roger's wrists, tugging them to gain the boy's attention, urging his eyes on her. Her lips thinned into a frown.

"Roger, the guy you met… I think that's Albel Nox."

Her words certainly did little to alleviate the turmoil in his heart. He remembered that name; the story Nel told him before she joined the war. Albel the Wicked, the cruelest swords-master in all of Aquios, and the very guy who turned the Kirlsa Training Facility into a torture prison. And this was the guy who was hunting him down like some game.

"Roger, listen to me - "

When Roger started hyperventilating, Ameena grabbed him by the arms and shook him.

"Listen _,_ you have to leave Peterny! _Now_!"

Wide, hazel eyes blinked up at her in disbelief. Leave Peterny? Ameena was asking him to… abandon her? No way was he going to do that, not with her current condition, not when she needed him most, not with the promise he made her the previous night, and most definitely not when there was a crazy, Glyphian swordsman with an inclination for chaos and bloodshed, hanging around the town! What if he went after her? Who'd protect her then? Though he my lack the ability to defeat Albel Nox, at least he knew how to fight. If any harm came Ameena, he knew he'd never forgive himself.

The poor boy was so caught up in his internal struggles that he failed to register the girl leaving the hallway, until she returned with his yellow backpack, his axe, and trusty helm - shined, polished and ready for a long journey. She placed them on the floor and waited. But Roger didn't move an inch.

"A-Ameena," he stuttered helplessly, "I… I can't... _I won't leave ya - YEOWCH!"_

Ameena's grip on his ear was unrelenting.

"Roger S. Huxley, I won't let an entire nation get dragged into this war because of me!"

She was resolute, hands on her hips and a stern look on her face that reminded the Menodix of his mama whenever he did something wrong.

"If you're a _real man_ like you say you are, then finish what you started and come back to me."

Their eyes met and a silent understanding transpired between them. He couldn't have heard her wrong, could he? What she was asking him, what she was really saying...

Roger nodded, determination filling his huge eyes. He understood perfectly. Ameena had nothing to worry about. He'd be back before she knew it. He'd see to the end of this horrible war and survive this journey no matter what it took, and he'd take her to see the Lost City. She'd never have to suffer alone again.

He could do this - for Ameena, for his people, and for Aquois. Melt had said that the answer lay in the stars and he'd know it as soon as he saw it. Well, fate was tugging him forward, and from the moment that strange metal contraption fell from the sky, Roger knew, just knew, that life had something bigger planned for him beyond the high walls of his village. Ameena was right; he had to finish what he started, and though he wasn't so sure what that really entailed, he figured there was only one way of finding out. And he couldn't do that while remaining here.

He snapped his fingers playfully. "Well, hurry it up, Ameena! Ya shouldn't keep a real man waiting ya know? _Sir Roger_ ain't got all day."

Ameena giggled and helped him with his backpack while he equipped his axe and helm. Then she retrieved an old map from a nearby drawer and handed it to him. She circled a particular location with a quill.

"I mapped out the quickest way to Kirlsa: you'd have to cut through Palmira Plains just south of Peterny, and into the Village of Arias," she instructed, indicating at said locations. "Once you're through, it's a straight trip to Kirlsa."

She rose to her feet. "I suggest you leave now. You'd be able to slip out with the peak period crowd, without drawing attention to yourself."

"Kirlsa? But why Kirlsa?" Roger inclined his head to give her a curious stare.

"I thought the strange vehicle fell in Airyglyph? At least, that's what all the gossipers said… some guy with blue hair and a yellow dog came out or summin."

"Well, about that blue-haired boy..." She waved a folded letter before his eyes.

"It just so happened I received a letter from an old friend of mine, who works at the Kirlsa inn. Apparently, apart from being 'the handsomest, most dashing, prince of all things gorgeous', he checked in with a blonde muscle man and a lady with short red hair."

Roger felt his heart thump rapidly against his ribcage. Short red hair… could that be…? That means she was still alive! He could only hope. He had to know for sure.

"Did the letter say anythin' else?"

"Not much."

"Are they the guys who piloted that strange object from the stars?"

"Only one way to find out."

"Then I'm bustin' outta this joint! Ain't nuttin gonna stop me now!"

He punched a fist into the air, jumping in exuberance, but paused to regard Ameena with concern. "But… but what 'bout ya, Ameena? If news in Peterny travels as fast as ya say, Albel will find out I've been stayin' with ya. He'd come for ya."

Ameena moved the furniture away and unlocked the door. She turned the knob and stuck her head outside, giving the street a good survey. Nothing but a few townspeople hurrying with their last minute shopping. All clear.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine." She gave the Menodix a light push out onto the front porch. "I'll take care of Albel Nox. You get to Kirlsa safely. Hurry!"

Roger tipped his helm in respect.

"Thanks a lot, Ameena. You're a real pal."

"May the grace of Apris be with you."

He offered her a final salute. "Later!"

And with that, he scampered towards the plaza, disappearing into the crowd.

* * *

The doors of "The Iron Stomach" tavern swung open and out stepped Cliff Fittir, smug as ever and thoroughly satisfied, wiping his mouth off traces of ale with the back of his hand. Then he raised his arms over his head in a good stretch, cracking his neck. _Damn_ , that took longer than expected. That old geezer really knew how to hold his alcohol; but as always, Klausian blood never let him down. He quenched his thirst _and_ won himself 21 mugs of free ale. If that wasn't a sweet deal, he didn't know what was.

 _Bah,_ who was he kidding? His victory did little to alleviate the tension in his muscles. The sight of the dreary streets outside the tavern was so bare and depressing, he wanted to mildew. He had only patronized the tavern because there was nothing much to do in this town, and now that he was done there was _still_ nothing to do in this despondent, rustic establishment. And for the 3rd time since he left the "Iron Maiden" Inn, he wondered - yes, you guessed it - what the bloody hell was he going to do.

'Have you tried talking to the townspeople? Maybe you could learn something about Airyglyph or Aquaria? Actually figure a way out of this mess,' was what Fayt would _probably_ stress in his characteristic drawl. Cliff could practically _hear_ the blue haired kid's nagging right now and he hadn't even seen the UP3 freak since dumping him at the inn!

Cliff groaned and massaged his temple with a finger. Less than a day and he already heard Fayt everywhere. This seriously couldn't be good for his sanity. Again, he wondered how long more he'd actually have to baby-sit this kid. The nerd was cramping his style.

On top of that, there was still no word from Mirage… he wondered if his partner was ok. It wasn't like her to take this long. The deceptively pleasant woman was one of Quark's finest agents, his right-hand man – uh, woman – when was leader once upon a time. She never failed him once and always came out on top without a crinkle in her suit or a hair out of place. She survived tougher spots before; he trusted her; but even this warranted some degree of attention… not that he would show it. The kid had enough on his plate already and he seriously doubted mentioning Mirage's uncharacteristic delay would make Fayt feel any better. Babysit a kid he could handle, but babysitting a kid undergoing a nervous breakdown was _not_ what he signed up for. Besides, Mirage told him he had the propensity for making people cry. Now, he had no idea where she got _that_ idea. Sure, he wasn't Shakespeare, but he wasn't _that_ terrible... at least, that was what he liked to think.

"Ah, what the heck. I have two hours to sundown anyway."

He shrugged and casually approached an on-coming elderly woman, readying his best manners. Yes, he had manners. Wouldn't Fayt be surprised? Besides, he figured covering his ass would look a lot better than returning to the inn empty-handed and facing the incessant whining of a paranoid teenager. At the very least, he would have more to say than how the ale here tasted rank.

And so, Cliff _did_ do some serious exploring of the modest mining town, and was sincerely surprised by a little tidbit of information he uncovered. Kirlsa was an unfortunate region caught in the middle of Glyphian-Aquarian political wrath. An old priest by an abandoned cave explained that despite being Airyglyph territory, majority of Kirlsa were devout worshippers of the Goddess Apris, a religion now banned after the insurgence of war. What was more disturbing was the reason behind the town's quiet, almost ghost-like atmosphere - majority of its population were declared war criminals due to their faith in Apris and were executed, their only crime being prayers for peace and salvation.

From there, Kirlsa plummeted into a downward spiral, a vicious spread of wartime propaganda and blind prejudice. Children played games of pretend on the streets, but instead of valiant knights rescuing princesses, boys would assume the roles of their military idols - Vox, Shelby, Albel - while tormenting little girls they declared as 'Nel Zelpher', beating them mercilessly with sticks. Most were orphans and the girls would always cry.

After that, a Glyphian guard on duty insulted and threatened to kick him out of a large manor's garden, which was precisely how Cliff found out Kirlsa was under the governance of a 'Count Woltar', commander of the Storm Brigade and loyal advisor to the king.

 _Ooookay_ … better steer clear from this side of town. He had no plans to end up getting captured and tossed back into Airyglyph's prison, thank you very much. Fortunately, the guard didn't recognize him, and Cliff wasn't feeling in a gambling mood to challenge his memory.

On the surface, the people of Kirlsa seemed content with their lives (or as content as wartime regime permitted). But it was in uninhibited places like the tavern where he managed to gather the voices of truth amidst a few loose mouths.

The people hated their home.

They hated how they had to watch their words in public.

They hated how night fell as they lay awake in bed, trembling and terrified at the thought of being charted off by Black Brigade soldiers to be tortured in the Kirlsa Training Facility for helping Aquarian spies. For being tattled on by their neighbors. For something they did. For something they said. For something they didn't do or say.

But most of all, they hated how everything started from Lord Vox's greed. His call for war did more harm than good for Airyglyph. Already, its people were poor and struggled to get by; now, they were starving for the sake of their soldiers, who fought a war none of them wanted. It dragged on for so long… But they believed in their King, followed his lead graciously, a little spark in their hearts hoping against hope that there was meaning to this madness. A meaning for the thousands sacrificed, an order due to be restored, just like all those years ago when Lord Nox was alive…

Honestly, Cliff had no idea who the heck this 'Nox' guy was, but he guessed he had to be someone great if these sorry folk liked him so much. There was also some rumor going around that Vox was the very reason some 'Sanmite Republic' place shut itself off from the rest of the world… Cliff shrugged. Whatever. This whole planet was messed up. If he had a say in anything, everyone just needed to take a chill pill and relax. Grow some flowers. Or punch a wall – that always made him feel better. Though fixing the wall after always made him sort of frustrated… but at least he didn't start wars. That was the Federation's job.

After about an hour of this, Cliff sighed and rubbed his forehead in frustration.

"Argh… If I hear _one more_ sob story about dead family members, I swear I'm gonna…"

An image of Fayt's father flashed through his mind and the blonde shook his head to get such pessimistic thoughts out of his skull. Hopefully, Quark's leader had a lead on Robert Leingod and the Vendeeni's plan. There was more to Dr. Leingod than what met the eye, though Cliff wasn't too keen on divulging that piece of information to Fayt just yet. The kid was in no state to handle yet another plot twist, and he was fairly certain that the boy was as stressed as it was if that scene on the mountains revealed anything.

Sure, the kid needed a good punch for that slap he gave Nel earlier, but there was no need to reconfirm the woman's suspicions and divulge anything further. Pretty much a need-to-know basis that she didn't need to know. Feigning obliviousness, which was what he was rather good at or so he was told, seemed like the best course for action. Besides, glowing blue lights on people's foreheads was as hard to believe as it sounded. Still, Fayt was already showing signs of high volatility at such an early stage. _That_ couldn't be good...

"Eh, we'll cross the bridge when we get there." He shrugged his concern off.

Suddenly, his eyes spotted a signboard over a door that read "Master Slayer" and judging by the sweet set of weapons on display, he guessed this was the town's Armorer. Nel had recommended him to pay the place a visit to repair his weapons for the journey ahead, but for the love of Klaus he just couldn't find the damned place! Every building and street in this town looked the friggin' same!

And just when he gave up, he found it. Figures.

"Yo! Is this where I can get my babies fixed?" Cliff practically slammed the shop door open.

The clerk behind the counter gave him a perturbed look and the Klausian had to resist smacking himself in the face. Of course, 17th century people would totally take his words literally.

"I mean… uh… well…" He removed his gauntlets and placed them on the counter. "You know what to do."

The clerk eyed him suspiciously behind his tiny, round-rimmed glasses, but didn't question him further. After all, who was he to criticize and turn away a customer? Times were hard as it was.

"That'll be 55 fol, sir. Will that be all?"

Cliff opened his mouth but quickly slammed it shut when he noticed something catch the light behind the counter. There, displayed on a shelf, were a beautiful pair of curved daggers, each one intricately forged and delicately crafted, the silver hilts slender and graceful like a certain redhead beauty. Cliff could immediately see her wield those daggers with precision and fluidity, like they were specially made for her, like anyone else owning them would do a severe injustice to the weapon's soul.

If only Fayt knew what was going through his mind. The Earthling would do more than just freak. He wouldn't hear the end of it. But there was something about the Crimson Blade spy that he found exceptionally exciting, dangerous and mysterious, unlike any woman he had ever encountered on his journeys. Nel was sassy, albeit snarky; headstrong, cool, a woman on a mission… pretty much like him really. Yet she had her moments of vulnerability where the modest lady in her would just peek out. There was more to her than just a pretty face… and a pair of sexy legs… did he mention her legs? They practically went on forever…

"Sir?" the clerk interrupted his daydreams, growing frustrated.

Cliff shook his head, cleared his throat, and pointed at the daggers.

"Toss in those daggers and we're good to go!"

"The Falchions?" clarified the shopkeeper.

Cliff grinned. "I don't care what you call them, gramps, but yeah, those."

The clerk continued to eye him weirdly, but the Klausian never once noticed or seemed to care as he rubbed his hands eagerly. He didn't know about God or Apris, but he sure believed his gut and right now, it was singing. After all, what made a better present for a crazy, femme fatale than a set of brand new shiny weapons?

* * *

"It's not like you to be this tardy."

A young woman in white and black robes placed a hand over her heart and bowed in respect.

"Apologies, Lady Nel, but I had to make a last minute detour to lose the Glyphian spy."

Nel said nothing, gesturing at her subordinate to proceed with her report. After scouting the town earlier, the cemetery seemed most adequate for their stealthy rendezvous. Most townspeople avoided this place like a plague - it brought back too many painful memories, especially since innocent victims of the war occupied most of these graves.

The woman relayed as much as she could, as quickly and quietly as she could, and the more she talked, the grimmer Nel's expression became. The informant had confirmed her worst fears, but at the very least, she could comfort herself knowing that her mission wasn't compromised. The Glyphian military still knew nothing about their whereabouts and she planned to keep it that way. Unfortunately, Kirlsa was still Airyglyph territory, which required them to remain on their toes. They had to depart before sunrise.

But there was something else, something that clawed at her being and drove her mad with unease. She knew there would be no sleep tonight if she didn't get this off her chest. She had to know…

"Wait."

"Yes, Lady Nel?"

She hesitated, a light breeze ruffling her hair.

"Do you… do you have any news about the child? Where he is?"

The Runologist shook her head sadly. "My apologies, Lady Nel, but we're doing all we can without drawing suspicion from the enemy."

Her silence was answer enough. To say she was disappointed was an understatement.

"Understood."

The Runologist frowned in trepidation. "Lady Nel, you don't think - "

"Shh!" she interrupted, eyes darting to the cemetery's entrance.

For a full minute, neither of them spoke nor moved an inch. Then, Nel raised her hand slowly and signaled at her subordinate to leave. The woman needn't be told twice. Nel waited for another minute, the wind picking up a few dead leaves, making them dance at her feet. A shade of blonde peeked from the side of a pillar, causing a small smirk to play upon her lips.

"They're not many people who can sneak up on me." She spared a glance at the entrance. "Not even you, Cliff."

"Aw man, couldn't pull the wool over your eyes, huh?"

And just like that, Cliff emerged from his hiding spot as he made his way up the short flight of stairs. He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish, his customary grin wide and ever-present. Nel chuckled, gazing at him through thick, long lashes.

"It appears you're still not convinced of my prowess."

Cliff held up his hands in defense. "Oh, no, I'm convinced alright. I just didn't want to interrupt your conversation with that hot babe."

Nel resisted a sigh and regarded him dispassionately.

"Is there a point to all this?"

"Point? Sure there is! I've been looking for you all evening."

She paused, honestly surprised. Out of all things, she hadn't expected something like that. And why would she? It wasn't like Cliff and Fayt had any reason to talk to her apart from criticizing her – well, Fayt mainly.

"What's wrong? Did you run into any trouble?"

Cliff groaned inwardly. Why did Nel have to be so serious all the damn time? Well, yeah, they were in the middle of a war, but still…

"Why does it always have to be something wrong when it comes to you? I just wanted to see you. Is that so hard to believe?"

He expected a snarky remark from the red head, a swift admonishment for his attitude perhaps; but what he didn't expect was for Nel's gaze to drop, uncharacteristic sadness swimming in her eyes. When she spoke, the black-and-blue stripped scarf around her neck muffled her words a little, but Cliff heard her just fine.

"I'm sorry, Cliff. I have my mission and I'm supposed to protect you." She sounded so dejected.

Cliff closed his eyes and sighed, hating himself. This wasn't the way he hoped for things to turn out this evening. It was supposed to be slow, easy, maybe even a little getting-to-know-you session post prison-break. Now, he wasn't exactly the romantic type - romance was the last thing on his skill set - but he hoped that he'd at least approach and come out of all this without looking like a total turd. So, in order to make things right, he approached Nel and clamped a hand on the assassin's shoulder in what he hoped to be a comforting gesture. It didn't take long for that grin to return.

"Nah, _I'm_ sorry. That came out kind of harsh. I didn't mean it that way."

Nel's heart skipped a beat. She didn't know what it was, but she definitely felt relieved.

"So, what did you want to see me for?" she asked, cocking her head, genuinely curious..

It took a while for Cliff's brain to start working again.

"Oh right, yeah. I… uh… I got a gift for you," he said bashfully and mentally kicked himself. He quickly handed Nel the Falchions least he somehow managed to screw that up too.

Nel's eyes widened in genuine surprise; a soft gasp passed her lips. Out of all the reasons the blonde could have possibly sought her out for, this never once entered her mind. Not only was Cliff's generosity startling, it was extremely thoughtful and… sort of sweet.

"What… what are they for?" she asked, finally finding her voice again.

"Uh… to cut stuff?"

Her face fell. "I'll rephrase: why did you buy these for me?"

"Oh," Cliff perked up considerably. "Well, I saw them at the armory and thought you could use a new pair. Yours look pretty banged up after we took down those monsters in the Aqueducts and Traum Mountains. Consider it a gift."

Nel accepted the Falchions gratefully, flushing pleasantly and wasted no time in fastening them to her hip. She marveled at their beauty and elegant craftsmanship. They weren't particularly expensive, nor were they the most valuable set of weaponry in Gaitt, but no one had ever given her a gift before… which made her question Cliff's motives. Why was this Greeton engineer so nice to her? What was he planning? Did he even have a plan? Or was he just playing the innocent card? Was this an attempt to buy her trust so she would eventually let her guard down?

However, when she looked up and saw warmth, sincerity and hope shining in Cliff's eyes, she knew all those suspicions couldn't be true. She didn't know what it was, but there was just something honest and true about this man. Someone she could place her faith in…

"Hey, are you blushing?" Cliff snickered.

"Don't be naïve," Nel replied with a huff, turning her face away. "It's getting late and the temperature is dropping."

"You have a point."

"Let's get back to the inn."

Nel led the way, but after a few steps, she paused in the middle of the street. The briefest moments of hesitation gripped her, but she eventually turned to face Cliff, who returned her stare curiously, self-consciously.

"What?"

"Technically, it's my money." She smirked, patting the Falchions at her side. "I gave you and Fayt a bag of fol each."

"Nope! It's mine. I earned it. Honestly, proudly, honorably, and through hard work." Cliff indicated at himself for emphasis.

Nel quirked her eyebrow, impressed to say the least. "How?"

"Drinking contest." He folded his arms in a smug fashion. "20,000 fol after 21 mugs. Don't think the guy would miss it much while he's out cold across the floor."

Nel facepalmed.

"Charming, Cliff. Real charming."

* * *

The cold night wind rushed through the dark and silent streets of Kirlsa, struck wooden signboards and caused the hinges to creak, rocking back and forth according to the current. A cat slinked out a narrow alleyway and leaped behind a wooden barrel to seek shelter from the bitter cold. Streams of smoke rose from the chimneys as fireplaces worked hard to keep the buildings warm. Yet, it was in this chilly state where one Fayt Leingod stowed away into the night.

He couldn't help it. There was just _no wa_ y he could sleep after that long nap earlier, not to mention Cliff's horrendous snoring. The Klausian snored like thunder for crying out loud! How was _anyone_ supposed to get a moment's rest with ultra-bass blasting in their ears? It was a wonder none of the other patrons woke up, or that the building was still standing in one piece.

As he lay awake with blood-shot eyes, he could have sworn he saw the windowpanes tremble. That was when Fayt knew he had to get way before he did something he'd live to regret. Or he could've shoved one of his socks into Cliff's mouth, but he figured he didn't want to risk the big guy swallowing it and choking in his sleep and potentially die from suffocation. As much as the blonde annoyed him, now wasn't the best time to kill the only person who could help him save his father and get the hell out of this planet.

Squinting through the darkness, Fayt made out the outlines of what appeared to be a large wooden crate by one of the Kirlsa gates. Wrapping his blanket tightly around himself, he crossed the street and settled comfortably on its surface. Then, he fished out a bunch of metal parts and tools from his many pants pockets and laid them on another crate next to him.

After some exploring earlier, he'd been fortunate enough to stumble across an unoccupied workshop and found some scrap metal. It wasn't much and as primeval as they were, he wasn't hoping for a miracle. But desperate times called for desperate measures and who knew how long he'd be stuck here?

Fayt unclasped the chain of his self-fashioned device and placed it carefully next to the metal pieces. He had yet to name his project and that was still kind of bugging him, but he figured it'd come to him eventually. Right now, he still needed to fix the thing and unjam it from its position on Elicoor II. It wasn't like he was rushing to complete this for submission (honestly, he wasn't even sure if he would be able to see Earth again, much less survive this horrible ordeal). He just wanted to see the Sol System again, see Earth, see home, _see them_. His hands shook.

"Mom… Dad… Sophia…"

Fayt buried his face into his hands and sobbed silently, the device having fallen from his grip as it clattered onto the floor. He knew calling them wouldn't bring them here, but at this point, what did he have to lose? He was no closer to escaping this planet, rescuing his father, or reuniting with his family. Not to mention barely managing to survive that nightmarish interrogation in Airyglyph; fought through hoards of monsters; caught in a war he knew nothing of or wanted any part in, and was being pressurized to build a weapon capable of wiping out a slew of innocent lives. No matter how hard he tried to twist the truth and make his situation feel less horrifying, he was constantly reminded that this was the result of the cruel vacation he'd asked for and that none of this, unfortunately, was a game. He had so desperately longed to see the stars back on Earth, and now cruel irony was giving him more than he bargained for.

"Looks like I got my wish."

With a sigh, he leaned back, supporting his body with the palms of his hands as he gazed up at the nighttime sky. For a moment, Fayt was utterly mesmerized: millions of stars scattered across the midnight canvas, shimmering like diamonds. He never noticed them before, mainly because he was so used to the lack of stars back on that he hadn't even bothered to look up. But here, he could finally witness the magic. Wasn't this the reason he wanted to leave home? And yet, home was what his heart desperately longed for at this moment. Fayt was feeling the bitterness creep into his soul. But the sight of the stars comforted him; they shone with the promise of hope. Absently, he wondered if his dad, mom, and Sophia were looking at the stars too.

"Can't sleep, Fayt?"

He jumped, lowering his gaze from the heavens. Nel stood between him and the inn entrance, a serene look on her face. He chuckled and shook his head.

" _Who_ can? I'm surprised I was up earlier than you."

The Crimson Blade assassin took it as a sign to continue and approached Fayt, arms folded. Though her pose was dignified, her eyes shifted to the side, telling of her inherent discomfort. A moment of silence transpired between them, each one waiting for the other to break it, and Fayt was half-surprised when it turned out to be Nel.

"Fayt, I'd like to apologise for my attitude earlier," she began, ever serious. It amused him how she even had a frown on her face when apologizing.

"I… coerced you into agreeing with my demands." There was an unpleasant expression on her face, like she was conveying something out of sheer difficulty.

"It's not a simple decision and certainly not one someone your age is expected to make. But please understand my priority is my people." She bowed deeply. "I only ask you to consider my request."

Fayt stared at her like she had grown a second head. Wait… was this Nel? _The Nel?_ The mission-crazed lunatic? Was this indigestion from the inn's stew, or was he actually dead?

"I would expect some acknowledgement."

He resisted a dramatic eye roll. Yup. That was Nel all right.

"No, I get where you're coming from." He brought his knees up to his chin, eyes glazed with sorrow. "I know what it's like… wanting to do all it takes to save the ones you love… even when it seems hopeless."

He cleared his throat when he felt his resolve falter. "But I'm not saying I've changed my mind."

Nel gazed at him with surprising understanding. She reached out and placed a hand upon his shoulder.

"I know you're worried about your father, and I know you hate me for keeping you from your mission," she said gently. "But I have my own mission."

She withdrew her hand and straightened up.

"If you help us – if you choose to help us –I'll help you and Cliff rescue your father. You have my word."

For a moment, neither said anything, simply stared into each other's eyes – searching, pleading, and hoping. It was Fayt who broke the silence.

"I'll think about it, alright?"

She nodded. "You don't have to answer right away."

"Gotcha."

Nel turned and headed for the inn.

"Oh and Fayt?"

"Yeah?"

She turned to offer him a small smile.

"Don't stay up too late. We have an early start tomorrow."

"Yeah." He nodded, returning to his work. "Goodnight, Nel."

"… Goodnight."

* * *

"Where is he, you pathetic worm? _Where is he?!"_

Ameena whimpered pitifully as she felt the blade of the swordsman's katana press against her throat. Her evening started uneventful enough. All she did was leave the house to fetch some water from the well, but as soon as she returned, she found the Black Brigade Captain in her living room, sword and claw at ready.

Water pooled at her feet from the neglected bucket, which rolled some distance away. She never even had the chance to scream.

"I'm going to ask you one last time, peasant," Albel sneered, madness swimming in his vermillion eyes. "Where is your friend? _Where is the boy?_ "

Ameena let out another pained gasp and when the swordsman realized she was unable to speak, he lifted the blade from her throat and backed away with an aggravated 'Bah!' He watched in disdain as the maiden coughed, fighting to get air back into her lungs. It was at that moment when Albel found himself offering another string of silent curses to hell and back for his troubles. Why, oh _why_ did him victim tonight have to be a girl? They were whiny, incessant, and were way too dramatic even when dying. He supposed he'd make it clean and deep as soon as the little fool gave him the information he needed. And so, Albel practiced something he hadn't needed to do for a long, _long_ time…

**Patience.**

Ameena regarded the swordsman nervously, her mind already going over the sequences she had planned as soon as Roger left. This wasn't the time to get cold feet, not even when a really scary man practically barged into her house, grazed her with his claw during the struggle, and had her at sword point. She had to be brave. Roger was counting on her, along with the other cute humanoids in the Sanmite Republic. She had to stall the Captain, or (very) possibly die trying.

"H-He's not here."

That sounded a lot less confident than what she had rehearsed in her head. Albel rolled his eyes so hard he could have sworn he saw the back of his skull.

"I can see that, maggot."

Not even three seconds and he was already losing his patience with this one.

"So where is he? If these ignorant townsfolk know their prattle, the little fool should be here."

Well, Roger certainly got _that_ right about Peterny gossip…

"He said he had to rush home on urgent business. S-Something about his mom taking ill."

The swordsman stared at her long and hard, before shutting his eyes momentarily, allowing a smirk to grace his lips. When he opened his eyes again, they shone with unbridled pleasure – pleasure from the joyous prospect of untold suffering. Oh how he _loved_ where this was going.

"And which building is his house?"

"I'm not telling you."

Albel raised his katana with a vengeance. _Worm!_ This woman was wasting his time. Did she have _any_ idea who she was dealing with? Just when he doubted the intelligence of this town could get any worse, this woman had gone and proved him wrong by kindling his wrath. No matter, he was going to kill her. Right now.

"Wait!"

He actually did, surprising himself.

"If you kill me, authorities will find my body. Roger will know it's you!" Albel stared at her in complete shock. "That's right, he saw your mark. He'll spread the word and you can say goodbye to your clandestine mission. You're in Aquarian territory."

Ameena didn't know where she got this sudden burst of strength and courage from, but whatever she was doing, it was probably, hopefully, working. She wasn't dead yet, so it _had_ to be a good sign, right? She just needed to buy Roger some time... at least enough for him to get a head start and get to Airyglyph before Albel got to him.

"Fool, you will sacrifice your life for his?"

It wasn't a question more than it was a proclamation. Ameena lowered her head in despair, sensing all too well that Albel fully intended to follow through with his words.

"Well, I'm sick. I've been sick for many years..."

Inwardly, feelings of sadness and despair clung at her heart, but she forced a smile upon her face - a full one that reached her eyes.

"That's why Roger lives here with me. He looks after me... just like how he looked after you."

Ameena closed her eyes and waited for the killing blow, which oddly never came.

How strange.

Looking up, she stared with blatant surprise at the sight of Albel lowering his blade. The fingers of the wicked captain's claw twitched from the mere mention of the afternoon's events. A swirl of emotions danced across his eyes: anger, hate, despair, peace, calm, guilt, shame, confusion… and something else, something warm and indescribable.

The way Roger had shoved through the crowd and completely disregarded his commands as he proceeded to heal his arm. The way those big, bright eyes filled with so much wonder and excitement as they chatted at the central plaza. The way the boy's flawless observations about his person and abilities made him feel a happiness – a feeling he hadn't experienced for nine years… He hated it.

"…come back."

"What?"

Ameena regarded the swordsman in stunned silence. Was Albel the Wicked, Captain of the Black Brigade and Gaitt's top swordsman, _spacing out_?

"I said if you just wait here until morning, he'd be back. It's only for a few hours."

She said it so calmly; too calmly… he didn't like calm. Calm was chaotic.

"I'm not obliged to follow your terms, worm."

"I know..." Ameena lowered her gaze sadly, fiddling with the material of her skirt.

"I just hoped that I would at least see him one last time before..." She placed a hand upon her cheek as she giggled sadly. "That sounds rather selfish, doesn't it?"

At the very least, she managed to win Roger some more precious time. The doctors said she wouldn't have long to live anyway, so she figured if she had to go, she'd rather do so through a worthy cause, and dying for a friend seemed worthy enough for her. Besides, there was just something about the Menodix's that she couldn't put her finger on. She simply couldn't shake off this feeling that he was someone important, like that star that fell from the sky that night, like he was part of something that would put an end to this war.

Her heart had to be right. It had to.

Albel weighed his options: on one hand, waiting was never his style (he preferred to get things done efficiently, his way, with as much blood as possible); on the other hand, slipping out of Peterny with the boy, without compromising his identity sounded promising. This woman had heart; he gave her that. But sentiment was for the weak, so her death seemed an appropriate end to such foolish notions.

"Fetch me a bottle of sake." He waved her off while settling down in the living room.

"I only have water… and tea…"

He sighed painfully, raising a hand to massage his forehead.

" _Fine…_ "

Ameena blinked innocently.

"Would that be water or tea?"

" _JUST GET ME WHATEVER YOU HAVE, YOU USELESS WORM!"_

Not needing to be told twice, Ameena squeaked and hurried to the fireplace to get a good fire started. The Captain resisted the urge to kill something, or destroy something. And so, in his resolve not to let his frustrations at the world get the better of him, he opted to stare at the few modest paintings on the walls.

The girl really didn't have much, and judging by the empty home, didn't have parents either. One painting showed two children in it holding hands and dressed in thick clothing. The girl was probably the little fool when she was a child; the boy with glasses and shoulder-length raven hair, he had no idea. But there was something odd about the painting, and after a few minutes of scrutinizing it, Albel finally knew why - the backdrop was Airyglyph.

So, the little fool was actually a Glyphian living in Peterny? And Roger came by often to care for the fool's sickness... But not near enough for him to return until the next day? _Bah!_ None of this made sense. None of these stupid people in this dumpy peasant town made sense. Even the girl's earlier words made no sense, unless…

His gaze returned to the portrait; the fury that had been present in his eyes earlier, fully restored. Albel's grip on his katana grew murderous and it seemed highly likely he was capable of snapping the hilt in half if he so much as tried hard enough. The wench was helping the kid stall for time. He'd been played a fool.

" _ **Worm!"**_

Ameena rushed right over, but before the frightened girl could get a word out, Albel turned on her and clamped his claw around her delicate throat, dangling her above the ground. It didn't take her long to realize her plan had mostly likely been found out. She shut her eyes tight and prayed for her death to be as quick and painless as possible, but was caught off-guard when she felt her bottom make painful contact against the hard wooden floor.

The front door was wide open and the Black Brigade Captain was gone. Tentatively, she placed a hand against her throat.

"I'm... alive?"

As she pondered over the sword-master's uncharacteristic display of mercy, Albel fled Peterny and raced towards Airyglyph. An immense wave of revulsion and self-loathing consumed him, along with an emotion that eluded him for nine years - fear.

Why didn't he kill that wench? Why did he flee the scene like some pathetic coward? Why didn't he silence the fool when he had the chance? _Why?!_

' _That's why Roger lives here with me. He looks after me... just like how he looked after you.'_

He took the girl's words and shoved them into the deepest, darkest pit of his soul.

He hated Roger.

He hated what this strange young boy was doing to him.

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That took longer than expected. I can't believe I churned this baby out in one full sitting. Looks like Albel is getting a little conflicted with his mission... And will Roger finally be united with Fayt and co.? Stay tuned to find out! 
> 
> If you like my story so far, feel free to leave a comment or kudos. I'm also happy to answer questions if any scene troubles you. Always looking to improve!


	8. Farewell, Days of Yesteryear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get serious in this chapter, so please bear with all the background information and war politics. They can be a pain (or pleasure) to read, but this is just my way of adding more depth and flavor to the original lore. Lots of things happen and will start to happen from this point onwards, so… are you guys ready for this?

A splash of crimson emerged from the dark caverns and out stepped Nel Zelpher onto the course gravel of the Bequerel Mountain Path. The Crimson Blade spy raised a hand to shield her eyes from the harsh glare of the morning sun; the past hour spent wandering through shadowy tunnels sensitizing her eyes to the slightest bit of light. Since the Kirlsa Caverns were the quickest route to the Riverfront Village of Arias, their little party of three spent a generous portion of the morning navigating through pitch-black darkness, fighting off ravenous cavern monsters, and struggled with a stubborn Hauler Beast that didn't know right from left, panicked at the slightest bit of stress, and had a temper as volatile as a newborn infant. So, they let Fayt drive.

Cliff stood next to her and brought his arms up in a gratuitous stretch.

"Man! Never thought I'd miss daylight so much." His arms fell to his sides as he turned to face an amused Nel. "How much further until we reach Arias?"

She pointed at the long, wide path before them.

"Not much. The village is just northeast from here. With any luck, we should arrive by midday."

"Luck…?"

"As you would have guessed from the state of the Kirlsa Caverns, this path is rarely used because of how difficult it is to travel along," she paused, eyes darting about the area. "As a result, some monsters have taken up residence here. We best exercise caution."

"Heh, no sweat." Cliff smirked, punching a fist into an open palm. "I'll give them something to chow on right here."

Nel sighed and shook her head. "Yes… that's how things always work for you, isn't it?"

The pair took a few steps forward, only to stop when they realized that something was out of place. Was it them, or were they forgetting something?

" _Urgh_! I'm _never_ riding on a Hauler again…"

They exchanged smirks, resisting the urge to snicker at their unfortunate teammate, who dragged himself out of the cave's entrance. Fayt's hair was tousled and his complexion had taken on a slightly pale-greenish pallor; the front of his tunic was wrinkled and his long sword hung behind his hip at an awkward angle. The blue-haired teen shot the pair of adults a murderous look that would have instilled some semblance of fear if not for the fact that he looked like he'd just survived an entire week of simulation games without rest and was painfully paying the price for it.

Those two idiots probably thought it was _so funny_ to choose the wrong (most temperamental) Hauler Beast and _persuade_ him to drive it, because he'd apparently fainted on them the previous day and this _horribly frustrating_ task was meant to compensate them for their earlier troubles. Well, he'd give _them_ something to compensate for. Once the ground beneath his feet stopped moving around so much…

"Yo, kid. You need a _haul_?"

Fayt glared at the grinning Klausian. Was that supposed to be a joke?

"Not now, Cliff."

"What about a piggyback?"

Clearly, he wasn't in the mood for anymore of Cliff's nonsense.

"Just stop talking."

Nel interrupted them with an impatient huff. As much as she found their habitual banter amusing, they were losing daylight. She didn't care if Fayt had to complete the journey kicking and screaming on Cliff's back. As long as they managed to reach Arias by sunset, nothing else mattered.

She fixed Fayt with a pointed stare. "If you're well enough to argue, you're well enough to walk."

That seemed to snap the guy out of it. A sudden surge of determination shone his emerald eyes, one that made the Crimson Blade spy stiffen with unease.

"And if you're free enough to throw snide remarks, you're free enough to answer my question." Fayt crossed his arms, meeting Nel's steely gaze, unflinching.

Ever since Nel made mention of a mysterious method the Glyphians could use against Aquaria back on the wagon from Airyglyph, he hadn't been able to shake that thought from his person. The topic persistently lingered at the back of his mind, even as he wandered the streets of Kirlsa and stayed up to work on his invention. He didn't know about Cliff, nor did he honestly expect the carefree blonde to remember or ponder over such a thing, but it seemed important enough to get Nel all riled up like she had. Furthermore, the fact that she was constantly avoiding the subject sent warning bells ringing in his head. There were many things the Aquarian _still_ wasn't telling them; and if she couldn't even humor him with a simple answer, there was no way he was going to trust her and put his faith in her wartime conditions.

Accept and live, or refuse and die – _ridiculous!_

"You said that you'd 'be damned if Airyglyph used that'." At Nel's avoidant stare, he pushed on. "What is _that_ , exactly? What more are you hiding from us? How do we know _you're_ not the _real_ enemy?"

"Not this again." Cliff moaned and slapped his forehead. "Kid, we've talked about this. This won't make our situation any better. Just drop it, alright?"

But Fayt had no plans on 'dropping it' just yet. He wasn't an idiot: he knew the older guy sported a soft spot for the beautiful Aquarian. And if he had to be the only objective, rational, and logical person between the two of them, then so be it.

"You're asking us to build a weapon that would wipe out a bunch of innocent lives; yet you refuse to tell me more about the nature of this war. How can we – how can _I_ trust you?"

"Fayt, shut up!"

"No, _you_ shut up!"

As the two men bickered, Nel's resolve faltered, gnawing at her bottom lip. A sigh of resignation left her lips before she finally returned her gaze to an expectant Fayt. She knew her little slip up earlier would cost her and eventually nip her in the butt, and she cursed her own weakness. She only had herself to blame for letting her mouth run before a pair of brilliant intellects (Cliff she still had her reservations).

"Fayt, I…"

A howl pierced through the still morning air, quickly joined by more, the music of the hunt erupting into a full-blown chorus of bloodthirsty snarls and snapping jaws. A pack of Dire Wolves approached the group from the top of the path. Powerful muscles rippled beneath blue-and-white fur as the pack readied for the kill.

Cliff automatically assumed a battle stance, fists out and ready to strike.

"Feeling lucky?"

Nel drew her Falcons, but not without answering Fayt.

"Sorry, but it looks like your questions will have to wait. You'll get your answers when we reach Arias."

And with a yell, she charged straight towards the pack, dishing out her signature Shadow Wave attack. Cliff was already grappling and punching the living daylights out of the nearest wolf, before blasting it with his Sphere of Might… kind of excessive, but that was the Klausian for you. He really was a madman on the battlefield.

Fayt was so mad he wanted to yell _really loudly_ and break the whole bloody mountain. For the love of God, why did everyone and everything have to be _so difficult_?! All he wanted were some answers. A little honesty would be greatly appreciated right now – was that so hard to ask? It was then he concluded that yes; _yes_ it was difficult. It was difficult surviving the Eagle's crash on this underdeveloped planet. It was difficult believing he'd escaped a Vendeeni attack on a Federation-fortified vacation hotspot. It was difficult believing his entire experience thus far _wasn't_ a bad dream and was _actually_ happening. And most of all, it was difficult to continue grasping at an increasingly feeble hope that he'd ever rescue and see his father again.

The image of this planet's beautiful night sky and its breath-taking array of stars, flashed through Fayt's mind. Resentful, he clenched his jaw, tightening his grip on his sword's hilt.

'I wish I never made that stupid wish.'

Dashing forward and straight into the center of the wolf pack, he unsheathed his weapon and leapt into the air. A bright burst of energy gathered at his hands and travelled down the length of his sword. With a yell, he raised the blade above his head and brought it down with a vengeance.

"Blade of Fury!"

* * *

The village of Arias stirred at the crack of dawn; gentle morning sunlight caressed the earth and stonewalls, peaking into windows. A soft breeze chased away the night's chilly air with the beginnings of daytime warmth. A blacksmith and his wife unlocked the doors to their store, the latter sweeping away some dust that had gathered on the front porch. Smoke rose from _The Dozing Inn's_ chimney; a woman meandered her way through the rubble outside her dilapidated home and shook out an old rug; a rooster crowed; guards changed over from their posts at the watchtower gates. And it was during this brief interval when a certain Menodix slipped through the South Gates undetected.

A large, bright yellow backpack bobbed up and down comically as its owner ran as fast as his small feet could carry him. The little pots and pans, which hung from the straps, clattered noisily against each other, and Roger thanked his lucky stars that he found a nearby tree to duck behind just when the new guard appeared. The Aquarian soldier looked about suspiciously, scratched his head, only to shrug and walk off. Roger sighed in relief and slid down the trunk of the oak tree.

 _Whew!_ That was close… He dug out the map Ameena had given him and scrutinized its markings. Unfortunately, Roger was starting to realize that going a whole night without sleep made reading maps very difficult.

"Lemme see… I came in through this gate, so… I oughta leave by… _that_ one!"

He lowered the map; but when he realized the distance between his target and current location was quite a stretch, his ears drooped.

"Great, like sneakin' around isn't hard enough…"

Suddenly, the place burst to life as villagers shuffled about the streets, beginning their morning routine.

" _Oh, come on!"_

He smashed his face repeatedly into the map. The gods must really enjoy tormenting him like this. And then to add to his troubles, his stomach gave a loud and painful growl. His hands flew to it immediately. When was the last time he ate? The previous morning at Ameena's place? That seemed like forever… He'd been so terrified that Albel Nox might catch up to him, he hadn't stopped for anything – not for rest, not for water, and certainly not for food. At this rate, he might just die before he reached Kirlsa.

"So… hungry…"

Just then, the door to the _Moonlight Gauntlet Bakery_ opened with a soft chime. A young girl stepped out with a fresh batch of bread loaves in her arms, stumbling as she fought to peer over her goods to see where she was going. Then, she turned around, fumbled with the sign on the door, and flipped it around to "Closed". She hurried off to deliver the bread, probably before it got cold… but Roger didn't care about that. No, all he saw and smelled were the delicious, glorious, tantalizing aroma of all kinds of bread that beckoned to him with their crusty, floury, oven-baked goodness. He felt every logical part of his brain shut down completely.

" _FOOOOOOOOOOODD!"_

He made a mad dash towards the bakery and threw its door open. Then, he leaned against it and gaped at the generous and most beautiful display of bread he'd ever seen in his entire life. Ok, maybe that was an exaggeration, but he was _really_ hungry!

Now, being the real man that he was, Roger was above stealing. Real men didn't steal. That was a crime punishable by law. Once, Lucien had told him that a thief got his hand cut off for trying to make away with some fruit, but they cut off his tail by accident, so they tried to fix it but did it all wrong, so he had a tail for a hand and a hand at his butt. Roger gulped, his hands going to his behind on impulse. He… H-He didn't want a hand on his butt.

His stomach growled once again and he threw caution to the wind.

"Gotta make this quick."

Roger shrugged off his backpack, only to realize he couldn't fit anything into it anymore. A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he expertly manipulated the shawl around his hips. His eyes sparkled in mischief. _This_ oughta do it!

He pushed his backpack against the wooden display, hopped on it, and proceeded to grab as many sugar buns and cinnamon swirls as his small hands could grasp, shoving them all into his new makeshift shawl-pouch. The thing filled to the brim quickly: either it offered too little space, or Roger had gone overboard with the cinnamon swirls; but whatever the case, the Menodix was confident he'd nabbed enough to last him till Kirlsa. Or at least until lunch.

"Oohh! The big one!" He was eyeing a tall loaf of bread on the top shelf.

Going on tiptoe, he stretched his fingers towards it.

"Almost… thereeeee… just a _lil_ moreeeee _…_ gotcha!"

"You're going to pay for that, right?"

Roger froze. Hesitantly, he turned to face the shop's entrance. It was the young baker from earlier, but instead of hugging a bag of loaves, she had her hands placed sternly on her hips. A frown marred her pretty features; she tapped her foot impatiently. Roger let out a nervous chuckle, slowly placing the bread back where he found it.

"Heh heh…I…uh…changed my mind?" He grinned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "L-Later!"

He hopped off his backpack and dragged it along with him, all the while avoiding eye contact with the girl. He jumped to get the door handle, but the vigorous movement jostled the knot of his shawl loose, and to his utmost misfortune, caused all the buns he stole to scatter across the floorboards. For a moment, no one said a word… until the young baker found her voice again.

"THIEF!"

Roger yelped, but before he could make a break for it, she surged forward and yanked the boy back by his… tail?

"Y-You're a humanoid?!" she exclaimed, all previous anger dissipating.

And then, before the Menodix could fully process the horror of his cover being blown, she took him by the hand and dragged him, kicking and struggling, out onto the street.

"Lemme go, ya dummy!"

Roger dug his heels into the ground and tugged against his captor, but to no avail. He had to hand it to her: for a girl, she was pretty strong.

"W-Where ya takin' me? Hey – "

They stopped in front of a large mansion in the center of the village; deep green vines snaked across its walls and disappeared into dark cracks. The building appeared quite abused if the broken areas of its structure and the surrounding debris indicated anything; like the manor had taken a nasty hit from some powerful external force.

Roger paused and did a quick survey of the village. Now that he thought about it, he _did_ find it odd how most of the buildings were either destroyed or struggling against the elements. Did this have something to do with the war? Arias was Aquaria's border town… was this Airyglyph's doing?

"Somewhere safe," was all she said, as she led him to the mansion's front door.

Standing by the entrance was a middle-aged man, but unlike the guards by the gates, he didn't wear armor. Instead, he donned a peculiar white-and-black outfit: the black robes fanned out at his feet, making it appear like a long skirt; the sleeves were white and flared at the wrists. Strange red patterns lined the robes and it took Roger a while to realize that they were in fact, runes - the same ones inscribed on Nel's thighs.

'A runologist!' he thought to himself. But if this guy was a runologist, then that must mean that this building was…

The man took one look at the nervous humanoid child and did a double take. Surprise overcame him for the briefest moment, before it melted into a passive stare.

"You must never breathe a word about this, miss. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

He took the Menodix into his care and ushered the young baker away. Roger had little choice but to follow the runologist, who opened the door and led him into the large building. The man brought up the rear, denying him any opportunity to escape, and the boy could only comply with his silent commands as he continued down the red-carpeted corridor.

"W-What is this place?" Roger whispered, unable to stand this mystery any longer.

"The Headquarters of the Aquarian Runological Corps."

He felt all color drain from his face. Somehow he had a feeling he'd never make it to Kirlsa.

* * *

"We're here." Nel indicated at the sea of ruin before them. "Arias – Aquarian territory."

Fayt and Cliff paused to survey the damage. Despite the beautiful, clear blue skies overhead and the flourishing greenery around them, they did nothing to alleviate the tragedy of Arias. The entire village had definitely seen better days: buildings were reduced to heaps of rubble and what few houses remained, were left in frightfully precarious states – unsuitable for living; yet what choice did these people have? This was their home, even if there wasn't much left of it. The only building that appeared to have fully withstood the destruction was a large mansion in the village's center.

Fayt took a tentative step forward, but stopped when a child in plain clothes - tattered and soiled - cut across his path as he chased after a chicken. He was squealing in delight while his granny admonished him, waving her walking stick in the air. Her haunted eyes were set upon an ashen face that had all hope and light sucked out from them, so unlike the child's innocence... Fayt was conflicted: he wanted to look away, but the cloud of despair that clung so strongly to Arias made the scene difficult to ignore. How could this boy, how could these people continue to live here like this?

"Some of the houses have been destroyed…"

He looked to Nel, feeling ashamed he could contribute no further. Thankfully, she took no offense to that.

"Yes, that happened when Airyglyph attacked…"

"Airyglyph?"

"The Black Brigade, Airyglyph's Heavy Calvary, launched an unexpected full-frontal assault. You see, not only is Arias the border town of Aquaria, it's also our military's base of operations. Destroying this village would cripple our defenses significantly."

"Looks like they almost succeeded." Cliff observed, "But hey – at least you know you guys can take them! Arias is still standing after all."

Unfortunately, Nel didn't share his optimism.

"Actually, it wasn't the Black Brigade that did this… it was one man."

"You want to repeat that?"

She decided to let Cliff's briskness slide.

"Albel Nox, also known as Albel the Wicked – Captain of the Black Brigade; the youngest soldier to hold such a title in Airyglyph history, and the best swordsman in all of Gaitt. Remember that body in the dungeons?"

"Wait, that was… _This is all_ _ **him**_ _!?"_

Fayt couldn't believe this: all that cruelty, all this destruction, by the hands of one man? This was insane! No wonder Nel seemed so hell-bent on getting them to cooperate with that weapon... It seemed they had underestimated the military capabilities of the opposing kingdom. If one man could dish out such devastating results, then who's to say what an entire _army_ could do, maybe all three! If Airyglyph attacked again, Aquaria and its people wouldn't stand a chance.

"Albel somehow managed to slip past our informants and defenses. By the time our runologists assembled, he'd already massacred more than a dozen families. His unit arrived just in time to bring the canons…"

Nel's gaze wavered and she forced herself to look away. Memories of that tragic night flashed through her mind, the cheers of 'Glory to Airyglyph!' stark against the backdrop of explosions and blood-curling screams.

"It wasn't a retreat; it was a warning. Airyglyph wanted to make a point and they appointed the devil himself to do it. Albel the Wicked is the general commander of the Aquaria-invasion. He would slaughter us all if his king decreed."

Fayt and Cliff shared an uneasy look. Things were starting to sound a lot more serious than they were originally led to believe. Oh sure, Cliff had told him about 'Warmonger Vox' back at Kirlsa, but Fayt had no idea they had to worry about anything more than a bunch of fire-breathing Air Dragons – and believe him, those were scary enough.

"That mansion over there is the base of our operations," Nel began anew as she indicated ahead. "We'll check in there first."

Then she turned to face Fayt, expression unnaturally serene.

"Perhaps you'll finally get all your questions answered."

Suddenly, Fayt didn't feel all too confident like he did back at the Bequerel Mountains, anymore. His questions – more like accusations – seemed to lose its power against the severity of Aquaria's plight. Nel really needed an answer, _his_ answer; yet she kept her word and agreed to grant him time to make his own considerations - time that she was being awfully generous with in light of what little of it they already had.

The two men trailed behind the Aquarian and after she was granted entrance from the runologist on duty, beckoned them through the door. The mansion was of considerable proportions and in spite the grandeur notions that came with such a living, its interior was surprisingly simple and modest (it had the necessary furniture and relics of religious worship, nothing too fancy).

"So… when you said we'd gets all our questions answered, from whom were you referring to?" Cliff interrupted, curious as to where Nel was taking them.

"Clair Lasbard," she replied with a fond smile. "She's Captain of the Aquarian Runological Corps and commander of the Aquarian army stationed here in Arias. Also… a very dear friend of mine."

Nel led them to a set of large, double-doors at the end of the hallway, before turning to face an apprehensive Fayt and Cliff. Well, Fayt anyway. Cliff appeared a little too excited for her tastes… maybe at the prospect of meeting another pretty woman. She felt a sudden twinge of discomfort in her breast and she frowned, confused. What was this dark feeling welling in her heart?

"Are you ready? She should be expecting us."

The men nodded and Nel turned to grasp the door's handle - _hmm?_ She paused, withdrawing her fingers with a frown. A bunch of muffled voices could be heard from beyond the wooden divide, with Clair's being the most identifiable out of the lot. That is, until she heard someone else.

Someone totally unexpected.

Someone she hadn't seen or heard from for a long, _long_ time.

" _We've already received the redeployment request for the runological weapons."_

" _They will arrive in three days."_

" _Three days?! Are ya crazy?! When those Airyglyph soldiers attack again, let's see who'll be laughin' in three days – you or them."_

" _Haha… that's a little harsh – pause – That will be fine. Carry on."_

" _Lemme do it. Oh come on – pause – Hey, don't go lookin' down on me just cuz I'm small. I'm a real man, ya know?"_

That voice. That brash, excitable, childish voice… it couldn't be.

"Nel? You – "

But whatever Cliff wanted to say was cut short when Nel all but threw the doors open, barging straight into the conference room like her very life depended on it.

* * *

The three occupants in the room jumped at the sudden intrusion, save a lovely young lady with gentle amber eyes and long, ash-grey hair. The silky-smooth strands framed her face delicately, and two strips of purple ribbon wound around and bound her side bangs in place. She had pretty, soft, and pleasant features; but her charm and disposition betrayed the deceiving naivety of her gaze, her graceful movements granting her an unprecedented quality of elegance. It was apparent she carried some level of authority amongst those gathered in her presence. The woman was similarly attired to Nel, save for the black-and-purple stripped scarf around her neck and significantly longer skirt. She smiled at her dear friend.

"Nel, right on time – her eyes trailed to the awkward figures of Fayt and Cliff by the entrance – as always." She stepped towards Nel, closing the distance between then with a hug. "Welcome home. Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Clair." The redhead fought to resist a playful smirk. "I see you still worry too much."

The woman called Clair pulled back with a slight frown.

"That's only because you're too reckless. If you don't want me worrying about you, try being a little more careful."

"That's my - "

"Nel!"

Suddenly, she felt a pair of small arms wrap around her neck and a sudden weight around her torso. The Crimson Blade spy was too stunned to react at first, overcome by a torrent of emotions - surprise, relief, confusion… but most of all, an overpowering sense of _happiness_ ; joy that she hadn't experienced for almost a year.

"Nel, it's ya! It's really ya!"

The child continued to cling onto her, sobbing, shaking, relieved beyond words. For months he'd waited earnestly for the familiar sight of red hair; the voice that soothed his troubles and chased away his fears.

"You're alive," he whispered in-between sobs, "I thought – I thought they got ya… I thought I'd never see ya again…"

Instinctively, Nel returned the embrace, matching the child's in fervor. He was safe. _Thank Apris_ , he was safe.

"Oh, Roger… I never thought I'd see you again too."

Someone cleared their throat; Clair smiled at them, happily united.

"I take it _this_ – she indicated at the boy – is yours?" She shook her head. "Really Nel, when you had me look into his disappearance, I thought I'd crack. It was a delicate operation: I had to carefully select my most trusted subordinates to prevent news from getting out."

Nel looked down, ashamed. "I'm sorry."

Clair sighed; it was just like Nel to be so hard on herself.

"Don't be. As you can see, everything worked out fine."

"Nel…" Roger gazed up at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Ya did all that… fer me?"

It was at that moment the Aquarian spy felt the beginnings of irritation creep in, and she released her hold on Roger, dropping him on one of the conference chairs. He rubbed his butt while gazing up at her in confusion. She stared him down like how a stern mother would discipline her child.

"Yes, Roger, I did – she indicated at the runologists present in the room – we _all_ did; one even lost her life while reporting your escape." Her gaze grew increasingly livid.

"And why? Because _you_ couldn't stay in Surfeiro where it's _safe_! By my faith in Apris, I wouldn't let any harm come to you or your people – you know that, and Her Majesty knows that. But Airyglyph is a different story. What do you think they'd do if they found you? Do you expect the same kind of Aquarian mercy from them? _This isn't a game!"_

At Nel's outburst, Roger shrank further away, ears drooping sadly as they pressed against his head in shame. All he ever wanted was to see the Aquarian again… she was like a big sister to him. He didn't mean for all the trouble he caused… and here he thought Nel would be as thrilled to see him as he was.

Feeling sorry for the humanoid, Clair stepped in front of her friend and placed a hand upon her stiff shoulder. "Nel, what's done is done. We'll just have to focus on what we can do here and now."

The young commander spared a teary-eyed Roger a gentle smile. "Thankfully Roger found us before Airyglyph found him. At least he's here, where we can protect him, instead of him running around attracting unwanted attention."

"… I suppose you're right," Nel conceded.

Pleased that she managed to appease her friend, it was now time to resume business. At their commander's signal, the two runologists left the room respectfully to give their leader space. At the same time, Fayt and Cliff stepped into the room. The doors shut behind them with a soft 'click' and Clair finally turned to address her two new guests.

"Are these the ones, Nel?"

"Yes."

She took a step back to accommodate a smiling Cliff, who took Clair's proffered hand in his. He shot her a playful wink and the young commander giggled. Nel rolled her eyes.

"Clair, this is Cliff Fittir. Cliff, Clair Lasbard – she pointed at the younger male - And that's Fayt Leingod…"

But Fayt wasn't listening.

While the three adults continued to stand around and get acquainted, his curious gaze remained fixed on the small humanoid child and object of dispute previously - Roger. At least, that was the name both Nel and Clair had used. Distantly, he heard Cliff prattle on about the "we're engineers from Greeton" story again. Suffice to say, this was going to take a while.

He watched as the boy quietly settled down in his seat, as if understanding that the present discussions didn't involve him. He never noticed the tray of unfinished food on the long conference table - that is until Roger resumed spooning porridge into his mouth, cleaning out the bowl in record time. He brought it up to his face to lick up any leftover bits. Though the boy ate noisily and his table manners left much to be desired, Fayt couldn't help but regard his innocent and candid behavior as kind of cute.

The humanoid had short, unruly brown hair pressed into a somewhat passable state by his brass helm, which looked a little too big for his head. Roger would push the rim back every time it tipped forward; and had big brown eyes set upon soft, chubby cheeks; subtle whiskers; adorable pouty lips… Unconsciously, Fayt licked his own lips. _Mmm…_

Where was he? Oh right - Roger wore a green long-sleeve turtleneck and faded yellow overalls - one of its straps constantly slipped down his shoulder and he'd tug it back up again.

Overall, baby-faced Roger depicted the perfect image of childish purity – effeminate, adorable, with an undercurrent of daring and mischief. There was just something so _fascinating_ about the boy that Fayt couldn't peel his gaze away. Or maybe it was those cute, twitching, furry ears and that soft, fluffy tail which he so desperately wanted to run his fingers along… _Oh, damn…_

Thankfully the kid didn't have access to his thoughts because there was no way they were heading down a very child-safe direction. Suddenly reminded of Peppita and that rude, grumpy clown back on Hyda IV, Fayt mentally kicked himself.

'This is _wrong_. He's just a _kid!_ I can't be gay. I never liked another guy all my life! I'm 19 and he's probably, what, 10? He's just a boy. A really, _really_ young boy… who's kind of cute when he blushes – wait, he's _blushing?'_

And true enough Roger _was_ blushing. He was staring shyly at Fayt, though he fought to hide his embarrassment with a well-placed frown. Unfortunately, instead of looking intimidating, it ended up as an adorable pout. Fayt hid a soft chuckle behind his hand while Roger's tail swished in agitation.

What was with this guy? Why'd he keep looking at him like that? What, hadn't he seen another humanoid before? Oh, right… since he and the big guy didn't come from these parts, probably not. Yeah, that's it. It was probably the surprise. Though Ameena hadn't looked at him like this Fayt guy was looking at him…

So, hoping to get some clues from the blue-haired man's strange behavior and the meaning behind his stares, Roger stubbornly met his amused stare head-on. However, his frown soon melted away as he looked the guy over, actually took in his stunning good looks.

'Huh… that letter really wasn't exaggeratin' – he _is_ kinda handsome…'

The Menodix's pupils dilated, mortified by his own thoughts. Okaaayyyy… where the heck did _that_ come from? He never checked out a guy before…

He broke eye contact and attempted to hide his glowing cheeks from the guy's sight by digging into his apple.

 _Geez_ , weren't those three done talking yet? And why wasn't this Fayt guy saying anything to him? This was getting _really_ uncomfortable –

"Whoops!"

His fumbling caused him to drop the apple, which rolled onto the floor and bumped against Fayt's boot. Without hesitating, Fayt reached for it and cleaned it with the material of his tunic. Then pulling up a chair next to the humanoid, he handed the shiny red apple to Roger with a charming smile. The gesture was sincere, simple, and without underlying intentions. However, beneath that grin, Fayt was a nervous wreck – what in Nebula's stars was he doing?! And why was he so nervous? It was _just_ a dumb apple.

Accepting the morsel gratefully, Roger didn't think anything more of the older boy's actions and took a huge bite from the fruit, or as huge relative to size and body mass. He chewed noisily, unable to stop himself from dancing in his seat. Gosh, he _loved_ apples – nature's perfect foods.

A soft chuckle tickled his ear and soon, wide chocolate eyes met brilliant emerald once again. Roger scowled at him, cheeks full.

"What's so funny, ya dummy?"

But the tender smile and warm look in Fayt's eyes made his breath catch in his throat and his frown fade. Unconsciously, Roger felt himself lean in, his tail betraying him as it wagged happily; and still the guy continued to smile at him in a way that made his stomach do strange flips. His face felt hot and his heart fluttered madly in his chest. The room felt stuffy and it was suddenly hard to breathe…

Before he knew it, he was offering his apple to Fayt.

An untold emotion flickered in the Earthling's eyes and Fayt surprised them both when he leaned forward to take a generous bite from the succulent fruit. Juice trickled down Roger's fingers and Fayt's mouth; the latter lapped it up lazily with his tongue and forefinger with a low laugh. The effect was immediate: Roger crimsoned like a tomato. His ears fluttered from the pleasant sensation, at the memory of howsexily Fayt performed that mere act. Sudden warmth gathered in his belly and pooled between his thighs, making him shift in discomfort.

'What… what's happening?'

He didn't know what this blue-haired boy did, had no clue what would entice his body to respond in a way it never did before – hot, bothered, and heart beating like crazy – but he realized with startling excitement that he liked it. He liked this strange, blue-haired boy's attention from the stars. It wasn't the kind of jittery feeling he got whenever he saw a pretty girl, or if said pretty girl talked to him. It also wasn't the kind of feeling he'd get whenever he participated in a dare. No, this was different, sort of weird; but he couldn't say he disliked it. On the contrary, it was… addictive.

And for some strange reason, when Cliff and Nel took their seats and Clair finally decided to commence some serious discussions, Roger found himself feeling a little disappointed when Fayt looked away.

* * *

"So, based on my sources, and if I'm clear from Cliff's explanation, you two are engineers from Greeton."

The two men nodded simultaneously. Their whole group was seated at the table: Cliff and Nel on one side, Roger and Fayt opposite, and Clair at the head.

The Aquarian Commander placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin upon her fingers. "First of all, I must apologize for forcing our problems on you. However… you must understand our situation – "

"I think we don't understand enough," Cliff interrupted as he nodded at Fayt. "Ready with your 'burning question', kid?"

All this while, Nel had her arms folded and eyes closed as she back leaned against the chair. Clair regarded him, maintaining an expression of calm amiability.

"What is it? I'll do my best to provide a thorough explanation."

"O-Oh, yeah, right." Fayt rubbed the back of his head awkwardly at being singled out like that. "Clair? I understand Aquaria and Airyglyph's position in all this, but Nel mentioned something to us yesterday. Something about Airyglyph having a 'secret weapon' of their own?"

Clair looked to her friend, but when it appeared the redhead wasn't going to entertain Fayt's question, she sighed and took it upon herself to do so.

"Well… they don't have one per se… but it's in the works."

"What is it? I'd like to know what we're up against if I'm going to help you with your weapon."

"Yeah, if one man and his unit did _this_ to Arias, I can't imagine what an Airyglyph weapon's capable of!" Cliff butted in.

"I think the youngest member in the room is better suited to answer this question." Clair turned to regard the Menodix seated to her right. "Isn't that right, chieftain's son of Surferio?"

"Chieftain's son…?" echoed Fayt and Cliff simultaneously. The Earthling looked down at the humanoid beside him. "So Roger's some sort of prince?"

"Haha! I'm not a prince, Fayt. But I'm _veeeery_ important, ya know?" He puffed out his chest smugly.

"Oh, you two on first names already?" Cliff winked at Fayt, who flushed lightly. "Fayt, you sly dog."

"Can we _please_ focus?" Fayt shot the smirking Klausian a glare. Then he returned his attention to Roger. "Go on."

Oblivious to underlying implications of their previous exchange, Roger proceeded as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"Uh… yeah, anyway, I'm from Surferio, one of the villages under the Sanmite Republic. My pops, Sir Huxley, is the Prime Minister and our village chief."

Cliff and Fayt shared a look. The Sanmite Republic? Hadn't the townsfolk in Kirlsa mentioned something about that nation?

"Anyway, pops and the other ministers kinda made this rule that none of us are allowed ta leave Surferio, cuz Airyglyph and Aquaria would take us prisoner if we did."

Fayt frowned. Hmm? An isolation policy?

"And why would they do that?" he demanded, but instead of a question it sounded more like an accusation as he stared at the two Aquarians reproachfully.

Deciding that now was a better time than any to defend her nation's honor, Nel sat up.

"Don't misunderstand." Her glare was directed at Fayt. "The people of the Sanmite Republic possess great power. Unlike runology, they don't depend on special ruins: Nature is their limitless source of power."

Clair nodded, offering the men a placating stare.

"That's right. The Sanmite Republic is by nature a peace-loving nation, just like Aquaria. So when war between Aquaria and Airyglyph broke out, they adopted a position of non-involvement – it wasn't their war to fight."

Cliff folded his arms. "I see. So both sides wanted an ally and you guys pretty much disturbed the peace."

"It's not like that!" Roger shouted, standing in his seat. Why was this big moron so stupid?

"Nel – _Aquaria_ , didn't do nuttin! My people took in Aquarian soldiers ta heal when they needed help – food, med'cine, care…" His eyes darkened at the memory. "But everythin' changed when Airyglyph found out."

"Airyglyph was worried that they'd had to fight against two nations vested in the mystic arts. They knew they'd lose," Nel continued on Roger's behalf. "So the ministers of the Sanmite Republic called for a peace conference. Each nation selected their representatives: Sir Huxley of Surferio, Lord Vox of Airyglyph, and Clair."

"And how'd that turn out?" Cliff shot the Aquarian Commander a smirk. She grimaced.

"As you guessed, it was a disaster." Clair looked up.

"I apologise if my subsequent speech offends you, but trust that I bear no ill feelings towards Greeton. Since the three nations share a deep history after fighting Greeton in the centuries-old Aquor-Greeton war, Sir Huxley decreed that the Sanmite Republic would continue to offer medical assistance to both Aquaria and Airyglyph if approached, but refused direct participation in the war. Lord Vox didn't like those terms; he wanted an alliance with the humanoids."

"He hurt my pops!" Roger interrupted, and the group could see angry tears prick at the corners of the boy's eyes. He reached up and wiped them stubbornly with his sleeve.

"B-Blinded him in one eye. Woulda killed him too if he hadn't fought back. After that, the ministers freaked and pops closed the gates of Surferio – no one was allowed ta enter or leave the Sanmite Republic."

"Then what about you, wise guy?" Cliff interjected, pointing at a gaping Roger.

"Guhh…"

" _That's why_ – Nel cut in, eyeing Roger sternly – he's staying _here_ where nobody can _see_ him, far out of _trouble_."

As Roger stared down at his feet guiltily, Fayt couldn't help but sympathize with the poor kid's situation. True, he _was_ risking a lot coming out and showing his… tail like that, but his intentions were pure, right? They had to be. He'd looked so happy earlier when he hugged Nel… he figured it was just the boy's determination to reunite with someone he saw as family. Roger probably thought that alone was worth the risk.

"In summary, if news of Roger's escape gets out, both nations would see it as the Republic breaking their isolation policy and it's free game for all. If Airyglyph is as power-hungry as you say, and Roger's really the Prime Minister's son, they'll aim to capture him and use him as coercion. Their people would be dragged into the war, more lives would be lost, and Aquaria would lose provided Cliff and I help develop your weapon."

Fayt had been quiet for some time, so it came to them as quite a surprise when he managed to conclude all of that himself. His solemn gaze met Nel's surprised one.

"That's _'that'_ isn't it? Back at the wagon… Roger's Airyglyph's weapon."

The Menodix gazed up at Fayt in awe, huge brown eyes sparkling. Wow… this guy was really something - nice, cool, handsome, _and_ smart.

"Yeahhh… I got a question?" Cliff pointed at the… _thing_ moving next to the boy's head. "Why the hell's he got a tail?!"

Unlike _some_ people.

Roger glared at Cliff, bristling. "And what's wrong with it, ya moron? I'll have ya know mine's the _fluffiest_ one in all of Gaitt!" He was shaking his tail from side to side for emphasis.

"Did you just call me a moron?!"

"Didn't ya hear me? Geez, ya really _have_ rocks fer brains!"

"Clair, Nel – Cliff punched a fist into an open palm – I think I have the answer to all your problems."

And to stop the Klausian from making the political situation worse by labeling them as international insurgents, Fayt quickly cut into Roger's space to block Cliff's view of said boy, who was in the middle of making funny faces at him.

"Now that you mention it…" Fayt looked to an amused Clair. "I've never seen other humanoids during our travels."

The commander offered him a patient smile. "That's because they're native to the Sanmite Republic."

"Yup!" Roger quipped. "My village's full of 'em!"

Fayt's pupils dilated. A village of humanoids. A _nation_ of humanoids. _All humanoids..._

"… Fayt?"

"Huh?"

Roger was waving a hand before his eyes.

"Ya ok, Fayt? Yer cheeks are all red."

Cliff burst out laughing while the other occupants in the room shot him curious stares. Fayt avoided their eyes, flustered. "I-It's nothing."

Nel sighed and addressed her friend. "They're still reluctant to help us."

"I see." Clair paused, contemplating the situation. She looked up. "Fayt, Cliff – that got their attention – I understand that you still have reservations on helping with our weapon. If you have any questions, I'll do my best to answer them."

Fayt stiffened, again unsettled by that topic. "I'm just not sure – "

"Weapon? What weapon?" Roger tilted his head to the side innocently. He turned to Clair. "Are they those… roonologiky weapons ya guys were talkin' 'bout earlier?"

" _Weapons?"_ Fayt recoiled immediately. "I thought you were only building _**one**_!"

Roger's expression was a mixture of curiosity and unease. "So, these weapons… what're they supposed ta do?"

"They're special weapons that use the energy evoked by runology as a power source," answered Nel. "As you know, there are only a few Aquarians who can use runology – far too few to help us stand up against Airyglyph."

Roger nodded. "Yeah. That's why yer queen wanted our help at first."

"Correct."

Figuring that there was no harm in indulging Roger's curiosity, Nel decided to reiterate her explanation.

"Our researchers in the palace named that energy 'channeled force'. When complete, the weapons should be able to shoot out powerful blasts of energy, each one capable of destroying everything within a five-foot radius – "

"And yer askin' them ta build _that?!"_ Roger exclaimed, horrified. "Nel, that'll kill hundreds of people! Even Airyglyph don't deserve that! Ya _gotta_ reconsider!"

Fayt stared at the child, honestly surprised by his response. He'd have thought that Lord Vox harming his father would have stirred up ill feelings against Airyglyph, but it appeared Roger was a lot more compassionate than he was inclined to believe.

Nel wasn't having this a second time, especially not from the one person she thought would have understood her and her reasons better than anyone. This was so painful and frustrating for her. She shot to her feet, the back of her chair slamming against the wall.

"Our country's in a state of war. Both the people of Aquaria and Airyglyph are dying, energy weapon or no. A quick end to this war will reduce the number of lives lost."

"But Nel – "

She slammed her fists against the table.

" _Dammit,_ Roger! Look at what happened to the Sanmite Republic and your father. Look what happened to Arias! Airyglyph made peace impossible for _everyone_. You askedme to come back to Surferio alive and this is the quickest way to end this war. Why are you defending the enemy?!"

Silence fell upon the room after her tirade. None of them had seen Nel lose her temper before. Clair, Cliff, and Fayt shuffled in their seats uncomfortably, and Roger… well, the poor boy looked like he was about to cry. After a moment, the Crimson Blade spy sat back down with a weary sigh. She cupped her forehead with her right hand.

"Roger, please leave."

A short pause, before something dragged across the floor. Roger pushed himself away from the table; he felt a hot wetness gather at his eyes. This wasn't the Nel he knew. At the back of his mind, he could hear a certain Glyphian swordsman's desperate screams, and he knew without a doubt that there was no way Nel would be able to understand what he'd heard or seen from the other side.

"Ya don't know how much they're sufferin' too."

With that, the Menodix jumped off his chair and dashed out of the room, silent tears streaming from his eyes. The group, save Nel, watched him go. He didn't even shut the doors behind him.

Clair released a heavy sigh. Well, that certainly placed a damper on everyone's spirits.

"So... Fayt?"

Said male never averted his eyes from the entrance, unable to get the image of a crying Roger out of his mind.

"I'm still thinking about it."

* * *

"Yo, you think you'll be alright on your own?"

Fayt pulled a face at Cliff's words.

"For the last time, I'm not a baby, geez!"

They were standing on the dirt path outside the mansion, Clair having dismissed the party when it became apparent that none were in the mood to discuss the current war situation further. Especially after that dramatic disagreement between Nel and Roger – the kid disappeared and hadn't returned since. Now, it was one thing to deny fault after an argument, but for Nel to claim that she didn't care what Roger did from here on end, that was something else. That was just unreasonable. Based on their understanding, the humanoid's position was vulnerable… and he'd just run out ears, tail and all! Sure, Fayt doubted Roger would do anything as reckless as _leave_ Arias, but shouldn't _anyone_ show the Menodix a little more concern? He was just a kid!

And right now, apparently a kid who had his faith and heart recently broken.

"Yeah, yeah, we've all heard that one before." Cliff chuckled and ruffled Fayt's hair. "Just remember to stay in Arias. Out those gates is Airglyph territory."

Fayt couldn't resist shooting his self-appointed bodyguard a knowing grin.

"Did Nel tell you that?"

"What gave you that idea?"

At Cliff's bewildered stare, he shook his head. "I'm not blind, Cliff. You two have been spending a lot of time with each other lately. _Alone_ time…?" He trailed off suggestively.

"Don't forget, we're supposed to rescue my father. Don't get too attached now."

However, the blonde's smirk caused his own grin to falter.

"Hey, I wasn't the one eyeing cute-and-cuddly like a piece of meat. But hey – who am I to judge?" He winked at Fayt, who blushed. "Besides, if I'm going to spend my time wisely on this backwater planet, it might as well be with someone hot, you know what I'm saying?"

That earned him a resigned sigh from the young Earthling. Figures, he should have known Cliff's priorities by now.

"I'll see you back at the manor by sundown. I'm going to check out this village."

"Yeah, me too."

They parted, with Cliff heading towards a General Store and Fayt down south. Unlike Cliff who had wanted to check out the sort of stuff they sold here, Fayt didn't have any particular goal in mind except stay away from the Runological Headquarters as much as possible. He was still mad that Nel lied to him about the weapon – one was bad enough, but a dozen? – and if he'd been half convinced before, it was all gone now.

But… what about what Roger had said?

'A whole other nation dragged into this war… but if I stop it now – ' He shook his head at the suggestion of his own thoughts. _Argh_! This was so frustrating. Instead of getting his questions answered, the prior discussion only left him with more doubts. No matter how he tried to resolve his situation, everything seemed to point to the weapon's completion. It was simple: make the weapon, end the war before it escalated, and go save his father.

But could he really do all that and walk away after knowing he'd been responsible for the deaths of hundreds?

'… Oh. Dead-end.'

He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts he failed to notice he arrived at Arias' South Gates. The guard at the entrance requested him to turn back: the Greeton engineers were required to stay safe and protected within the village – Clair Lasbard's orders.

Glancing up and noticing a familiar pointed, brass helm shining in the sun's light, Fayt indicated at one of the watchtowers.

"Could I…?" He trailed off and the guard nodded in consent.

It didn't take him long to climb the narrow steps until he reached the open platform at the top of the tower. The sight that greeted him brought an involuntary smile to his face.

'There he is.'

Roger was perched on the tower's ledge, his feet dangling over the edge and kicking up air. The act seemed bold at first, until Fayt realized that the boy wouldn't be able to see past the barriers due to his short nature, otherwise. His tail swished lazily; he was looking into the distance and appeared oblivious to Fayt's arrival. However, the slight twitching of his furry ears indicated otherwise.

"There you are. You had me worried."

"Fayt?"

Roger turned his head to blink at said male innocently. Then he paused, processing his statement. "… ya were worried about me?" The warm, bubbly feeling returned to his belly. Fayt proceeded gently.

"Sure. You took off crying and never came back. How could I not worry?"

"Who said I was cryin'? I wasn't cryin'. Real men dun cry, ya know."

Fayt sidled up next to the Menodix, chuckling. He leaned against the ledge, his forearms supporting his body. He gazed out into the distance, across the vast green, flowering fields; past a glittering, fashionable town and a seemingly never-ending forest beyond it, all set against a backdrop of tranquil, clear-blue skies. The view was beautiful, absolutely breathtaking - a drastic change to the dreary winter skies, which blanketed Airyglyph. It was truly astounding how different the two kingdoms were. It was astounding how they were both part of the same planet.

"What're you doing up here?" he asked and Roger pointed at something in the distance.

"Ya see that town over there? That's Peterny; and that's Duggus Forest. My village's waaaaaaayyy past that. Ya can't see it, but startin' from those steppes, it's all Sanmite territory." He seemed exceptionally proud at the mention of his home.

Fayt tilted his head. "Surferio? You were looking at your home?"

Roger looked down sadly, his ears drooping as he fiddled with his fingers.

"Fayt…" He said in hesitation. "Can ya… can ya keep a secret?"

That earned him a look of surprise from the older male. They hadn't known each other for long, barely exchanged any words upon their introduction even, but here Roger was confiding in him like he trusted him. And who was Fayt to deny such an earnest and honest request?

'Especially when he asked so cutely – _no, Fayt, stop it!'_

"Sure, Roger. What is it?"

Wide, chocolate-brown orbs met bright emerald, a mixture of uncertainty, regret, and quiet desperation swimming in the young boy's gaze. It was a look that didn't sit well with Fayt, especially since Roger was only a child. The spark and brazen confidence were gone and in its place, was the prelude to hopelessness.

"I…I'm not so sure I made the right choice ta leave Surferio," he admitted dejectedly, Nel's words from this morning ringing in his head. "I only wanted ta see her again – honest I did – but I just ended up causin' a ton'a problems fer everyone..."

"That's not true!"

Roger startled from the outburst; heck, even Fayt surprised himself from his own forwardness. The Earthling lowered his voice, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly with an embarrassed smile on his face.

"S-Sorry… But it's really not true. It may look pretty bad on a political standpoint, but… you and Nel are pretty close, right?" At Roger's nod he continued. "You left because you were worried about her. I know _I'd_ be concerned if I haven't heard from a friend in months, let alone whether she's still alive."

Roger's growing smile was motivation enough for Fayt, who ended his speech with a light chuckle.

"You didn't do anything wrong. Besides, didn't you hear Clair? _Someone_ needs to keep that reckless woman in check."

From there, Fayt launched into a grand recap of the past day's events following the crash of his vehicle onto Airyglyph – how he and Cliff were taken prisoner; meeting Nel, getting kicked out of a wagon, braved through dangerous mines, fought a ton of monsters along the way… And when he was done with his narration, a wide-eyed Roger, who had been drooling in awe and excitement during his tale, stopped to snicker at him.

"Heh, I guess you're right. But that's yours and the big moron's job now."

Fayt's smile faded into a grimace.

"Trust me, that's _not_ what we signed up for when we came here."

"Why _did_ ya leave Greeton anyway?"

"I'm not – " But he quickly caught himself. Enginners from Greeton. Right.

"O-Oh yeah… Cliff and I were actually on the way to rescue my dad, but we went a little off course."

"Yer pops?" Roger's eyes widened in alarm. "Did he get kidnapped or summin?"

"You could say that," Fayt replied with an uneasy nod. He felt a little bad lying to Roger, but it wasn't _completely_ untrue…

"My dad's a famous scientist, but he was kidnapped by a hostile race, who're in the middle of a war against another race... It's complicated."

It was ironic, he realized, how his situation right now sort of mirrored his dad's. Except that it wasn't the Vendeeni, but a bunch of knights and runological crusaders. It still bothered him though, on what the Vendeeni could possibly want with his dad.

"Oh. I didn't know Greeton had its own war too." Roger smiled and placed a hand upon Fayt's, who started in pleasant surprise. "But what is worth, I hope yer pops is ok. I'm sure ya will see him again, don't worry."

Fayt stared at the small hand over his larger one. It was a simple gesture of comfort and assurance, nothing more; yet the boy's touch and words made him feel better than anything else he'd experienced since he came to Elicoor II. Suddenly, he didn't feel so alone anymore.

"Hey, Roger?"

"Huh?"

"Why did you say that back in the conference room?" he asked, honestly still curious about the Menodix's previous words. "I thought Airyglyph hurt your father and led to your people's isolation. I thought you wanted Aquaria to win so Nel could come home."

Roger stiffened and avoided Fayt's beseeching stare. How could he tell this Greeton engineer – heck, how could he tell _anyone_ he'd changed his mind after that encounter with Albel in Peterny? They wouldn't understand. The Black Brigade Captain was cruel, wicked, and unkind; laid waste to Arias and would command his unit to do the same for the rest of Aquaria…

But there was something else there beneath that man's cold, black heart. When he'd healed him, he heard it, felt it – quiet, desperate, and afraid. It was barely there, but it still was. The captain's sorrow made him realize that Airyglyph was suffering just as much as any of them; perhaps more so because war made them the bad guys out of necessity.

"I don't want Aquaria ta win – he quickly continued before Fayt got the wrong idea – and I don't want Airyglyph ta win either."

He stared up at the sky, as if there was something there that contained the answer to his request.

"… I just want everyone ta be friends again. And friends don't hurt each other; they need each other. Everyone wins that way, right?"

"Roger…"

Fayt didn't know what to say. The boy was simple-minded; yet his words contained a deeper truth. He remembered Nel telling him in the wagon that Airyglyph and Aquaria had maintained peaceful relations for many years… he wondered what happened.

"…Fayt?" Roger turned to stare at him pleadingly, almost sadly. "P-Promise ya won't help them with that weapon."

Fayt bit his lip, conflicted.

"You _do_ know what you're asking of me, right?"

Roger lowered his gaze shamefully. A flash of the disastrous 'Real Man Contest' entered his mind: Melt almost dying, the meaningless competition, the end of friendship… He refused to see that happening again.

"Airyglyph, Aquaria, and Sanmite were once 'Aquor'," the child spoke so softly that Fayt had to strain his ears to hear him. "We just need a reminder, that's all."

"… Roger, I don't – "

"Hey, what's that?"

Roger pointed at the strange object dangling from Fayt's neck. It looked like a round golden disc the size of a pebble; it hung from a matching chain. He had always been drawn to shiny objects and this one, no matter how odd it looked, was no exception. He wrapped his fingers around it and yanked it to his eye level, oblivious to how Fayt got dragged along, choking.

"Oooo… it shines under the light! Neat!" he giggled in excitement. "What's it do?"

Fayt coughed and pulled away, his hand flying to rub at his neck. _Damn,_ the humanoid could pull hard. He unclasped the chain and held the device before Roger's inquisitive gaze.

"It's an invention, which I'm afraid isn't working properly."

His eyes shone playfully. "Want to see something cool though?"

He flipped it open and Roger squeaked and jumped back in surprise when an image projection popped out, showcasing nothing but rocky terrain and what appeared to be a bird's eye view of Gaitt. Nervously, the Menodix reached out to touch the image, but his fingers ghosted through the hologram.

"Woahhhh…"

Roger's eyes were huge and his mouth hung open comically. Fayt couldn't stop himself from chuckling. In his heart, he knew showing the boy something like this was clear violation of the UP3, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Roger was different, interesting, and more than anything, he wanted to help him feel better; see him smile.

He wanted to show Roger everything.

"It's like a map that shows you different places according to its programmed inventory. Unfortunately, it's stuck on your region, and I've been having trouble fixing it." Fayt grinned and snapped the device shut. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Pretty cool? That's _**amazing**_ _!"_ Roger eagerly received the device from Fayt and turned it over in his hands. "Do all people from Greeton use this ta find their way 'round?"

"Huh? Oh – Uh… yeah! _"_ He paused awkwardly. "At least, not yet. I'm hoping to patent this after I've perfected it."

He was totally unprepared when he found the Menodix child right up at his face. Roger's eyes were so big and bright they looked like stars; his cheeks flushed prettily in excitement. He was also leaning in closer and closer…

Fayt felt a sudden warmth color his cheeks and he unconsciously leaned in too.

"Fayt…?" Roger whispered, gazing at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Y-Yeah?"

"Are ya… Are ya…?"

'Just a little more,' Fayt thought, allowing his eyes to slide shut against his better judgment. 'Just a little more…'

"Are ya an inventor?"

… Wait, what?

Fayt frowned and opened his eyes, pulling away. It appeared Roger had been totally oblivious about the underlying romantic implications that he'd just ruined, and was staring at him with playful, innocent eyes.

"So ya are! Ya _are_ an inventor! That's so cool!"

Unaware of Fayt's disappointment, he stuck his hands into his large, overall pockets and pulled out a few black metal discs.

"I'm an inventor too! Well, sorta – if pops allowed me ta sign up with the Craftsman's Guild that is… They're an organization of the top inventors in all of Gaitt!"

And as the enthused child raved on and on about this "Craftsman's Guild" and its extensive list of members, Fayt inspected what appeared to be land mines. Least to say, he was thoroughly impressed, marveling at its efficient design and remarkable lightweight.

Holy hell – this was _incredible!_ True, he'd seen way more sophisticated technology on Earth and other first world planets, but Elicoor II's level of technology and civilization was meant to simulate 17th century Earth. Yet here he was looking at an automatic weapon that would have hailed from the 20th century! Basic college science _couldn't_ whip up a fully functional, automatic land mine. It didn't even contain gunpowder.

"Roger, how old are you?"

"12. Why?"

_12._

The kid was an inhabitant of a backwater planet, came from a subsistence culture that used an archaic communal system of leadership, and was friggin' 12 years old. Would the wonders of this planet ever cease? Could Roger get any more amazing? Apart from the ears and tail, yes, Fayt concluded that yes, he could.

"You're a genius."

Roger sniffed and rubbed his nose with pride.

"Heh heh! Don't I know it! When I grow up, I'm gonna be a famous engineer!" He pumped his fist into the air. "I'm gonna invent really cool gadgets and gizmos, and fix up a whole buncha things!" He paused to grin at Fayt. "Just like ya."

Fayt laughed and patted the excitable Menodix on his head – _helm_. What could he say? He and Roger shared a lot in common, and he doubted he'd ever get tired of the boy's antics. Also, he was glad he was able to chase away the sorrow from Roger's eyes – it was a look that didn't suit him. Fayt liked his smiles and brazen personality a lot better.

"Say, do you want to help me fix my invention?"

Roger's eyes sparkled at the offer, wagging his tail happily.

"M-Me? Really, Fayt? Ya mean it?"

Said male shrugged in response. "I don't see why not. It wouldn't hurt to get a second opinion from a fellow engineer. Who knows? Maybe I overlooked something."

"Yipee! Ya won't regret this!"

Roger leapt off his perch and immediately started tugging at Fayt's hand, urging him down the watchtower steps and out onto the village streets. And then, he continued dragging his laughing companion towards the mansion, peddling backwards in his determination to maintain eye contact.

"Where are we going, Roger?" Fayt asked in-between giggles.

"Ta my bedroom!"

Silence.

Fayt's brain immediately stopped working as a hundred perverted thoughts and possibilities flooded his mind's eye – all of which containing a certain humanoid boy in numerous _pleasurable_ scenarios involving that tail…

_STOP._

"I have some tools in there," Roger continued, oblivious to the older male's turmoil. "That is, if ya don't mind."

Would Fayt find it too weird to work alone with him, and in his bedroom for that matter? And why did that thought send a pleasant, nervous tingle down his spine? This was an opportunity to learn from a Greeton engineer, a member of a technological superpower! But… what was this strange, warm feeling in his chest? He _liked_ it when Fayt directed all his attention onto him; but the two of them… _alone_?

He wanted to spend more time with guy, couldn't explain why; but was this pushing it? Oddly, he wanted to give it a try. He wanted that emerald gaze on him more and unbeknownst to him, Fayt craved the same thing.

The young swordsman sought Roger's gaze with charming smile.

"I don't mind at all."

Small hands grasped their larger counterpart tenderly, fingers intertwining.

* * *

The pair made their way up the mansion's stairs, chatting animatedly while Fayt laughed at something Roger said. The Menodix led him to his room at the end of the hallway, reached up on his tiptoes and was about to turn the doorknob, when a stern, feminine voice stopped him in his tracks. They nervously turned to regard Nel, who stood a short distance from them. Her arms were folded, a smile upon her lips, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"It's nice to see you two getting along so well," she began, her tone not giving away her emotions as she looked at Fayt, "but I would like to speak with Roger. Alone, if you please."

Roger gazed up at him, worried and confused. Fayt met his stare, equally puzzled at first, before giving Nel a curt nod.

"Alright." He smiled down at Roger in a way he hoped would offer the boy some comfort. "I'll be in your room. Come find me when you're done."

The door creaked shut and Roger turned to face the Aquarian, keeping his gaze at his feet. Least to say, he was a little embarrassed after his outburst this morning. Though he wondered what pressing detail Nel had to say to him that couldn't wait.

"H-Hey, Nel. What's up?" He wanted to kick himself for sounding so nervous.

The expression on the woman's face turned murderous.

"Were those words your own?" It was a dangerous whisper, her fists shaking at her sides.

"I…"

"I cannot trust one who shows pity for the enemy."

"But – "

"Are you aware of the severity of this war? Of the devastation it's caused?" Nel stopped herself and shook her head sadly. "Of course you don't. You've seen _nothing,_ while _I_ had to live through _everything_."

Roger's lower lip quivered. Nel's words really hurt…

"Have you forgotten the reason I joined this war in the first place? This isn't as simple as those childish contests, Roger. How could you leave Surferio?!"

Her voice was getting louder and louder, her temper steadily rising.

"Did you really think your actions would change anything? You've inconvenienced my subordinates and you've placed your own people at risk! You have a brain – _use it!_ This isn't the first time your reckless decisions have led you astray. This isn't a _game_ – "

" _I KNOW THAT!"_

Nel's mouth snapped shut. Roger sniffed and hiccupped, angrily wiping his tears with the back of his sleeve.

"I know all that," he began miserably. "But I needed ta know if ya were still alive. That's all I ever cared about!"

Nel's earlier words pierced his heart like a red-hot dagger. It hurt to find out she didn't trust him anymore, but it hurt way more that she just didn't understand. Why couldn't she understand?

"You're family, Nel. I love ya."

A dark look entered his eyes and he glared at her through his tears.

"But it's _ya_ who's forgotten everythin'! Ya stopped carin' and just threw it all away!"

Those cheerful days under the sun, her warm hugs, the guys doing battle in the name of fun, and the carefree choruses of laughter… They all seemed so distant – friendships and brotherhood torn apart – and the sudden, thorough loss of all that was killing him. The image of the Nel he knew had disappeared, and all that was left was a large hole in his already beaten and trodden heart.

"I… I dun know ya anymore, Nel, and it makes me sad. You're right here, but it feels like you're gone… like ya were gone a long time ago."

For a while, neither spoke. Roger anxiously awaited the Aquarian's response. _Anything_. But all he got was the woman's cold silence as she turned her back to him.

"Some sacrifices had to be made."

Nel approached the stairs, but stopped, delivering her final message to the boy she had once loved like a brother, and maybe even a son.

"A soldier will escort you to Surferio tomorrow. You'd best start packing."

She left without another word, without looking back, like all those months ago.

* * *

Nighttime fell upon the village of Aris. The guards by the gates swapped posts, the lights of the buildings went out, and the baker flipped the sign on the door to 'closed'. In the distance, a wolf howled amidst the harsh winds, but the villagers slept soundly, quietly and comfortably nestled beneath their covers.

Within a certain room at the Runological Headquarters, a single candle cast a dim light upon the figure of a small child in bed, his head pressed against a soft, downy pillow, his tired eyes fighting so desperately to stay awake. Roger fingers were loosely curled around the golden chain of the strange navigation device; numerous tools were strewn across the sheets and the bedside table. The Menodix mumbled something adorable in his half-awake, half-asleep state, blearily watching the flame of the bedside candle flicker and dance as the wax pooled at the metal plate beneath. All this time, he never once relinquished his hold on the device. Fayt gazed at him fondly as he lowered himself onto his knees. Quietly, he gathered all the tools and loose pieces scattered about the mattress and placed them aside. And then, with a sudden boldness, he reached out to stroke Roger's cheek with tender affection.

Earlier, the Menodix came in with red, puffy eyes and his tail trailing heavily behind him. Before he could question him howvr, Roger had hopped onto the bed and declared passionately that he'd fix this device or die trying; or at least until he grew too sleepy to keep his eyes open… sort of like now.

Repairs weren't complete, but based on Fayt's observations they were making progress. Still, he'd enjoyed himself and though he ended up spending most of the time explaining things to Roger instead of actually fixing the damn thing, he found that the experience had left him feeling strangely content. The Menodix was ever curious and equipped with a thousand-and-one questions, but he was also an extremely fast learner and it didn't take long before he was working on the repairs himself, while Fayt watched patiently over his shoulder. Before they knew it, an entire day went by with neither of them sensing time's sweet passing.

"Mmn… can still… work…"

Fayt shook his head fondly, noting that Roger's eyes were closed and he was mumbling gibberish. Gently, so as not to disturb the drowsy boy, he lifted Roger's helm from his head and placed it on the bedside table. Then he ran his fingers through the unruly mop of brown hair before brushing aside a few stray strands that fell across the child's brow.

"Goodnight," he whispered, and was about to blow out the candle and take his leave when a small voice stopped him.

Roger cracked his eyes open and rubbed them adorably.

"Mmn… ya going, Fayt?"

"Yeah. Don't want Cliff worrying about me." He drew the blanket to Roger's chin, tucking him in. "Now get some rest."

"Oh. Ok." Roger lowered his gaze to the covers, fingering them nervously. "… Hey, Fayt, can I tell ya summin?"

"What is it?"

The Menodix yawned loudly and snuggled against the sheets.

"I didn't leave Surferio cuz of Nel… I left cuz of ya."

"What?"

That certainly got Fayt's attention and he returned to Roger's side in a heartbeat. He sat next to the humanoid, the mattress sinking from the added weight. Fayt reached down and pinched the kid's nose.

"Explain yourself, _Sir_ Roger, or I'm going to get mad." His tone was teasing as Roger let out a weak whine, swatting his hand away.

"Ok, ok, ya win!" He sighed and turned in bed so as to better face Fayt.

"On the night Nel left ta join the war, I started makin' my Palmira Wishing Charm."

"Palmira Wishing Charm?"

Roger nodded. "Here in Gaitt, we have this tradition where ya thread a thousand Palmira Flowers into one long chain. Then, when ya pray ta the Goddess Palmira, she'll grant yer wish."

"What did you wish for?" he asked gently.

"Peace between Airyglyph and Aquaria, so we can all be Aquor again."

Roger smiled softly to himself and fingered the material of his pillowcase.

"And I think… Palmira heard me."

"How do you know that?"

"The stars told me so."

Roger sat up and gazed deep into Fayt's lovely green eyes.

"Ya see, my best friend, Melt, likes ta look at the stars, and he's real good at readin' them too." He smirked proudly at the mention of the genius wolf-boy. "He told me they had an answer ta my prayers, but all I had ta do was ta be patient."

His posture relaxed and a wistful look filled his eyes. He thought back to the events that happened inAiryglyph; the night of his escape from Surferio; and now in the peaceful quite of this bedroom, with this strange engineer from a faraway place.

"Then one night, a fallen star landed on Airyglyph. And after eight long months of hell on earth, all the fightin' suddenly stopped."

The humanoid yawned and crawled back beneath the covers, snuggling into his pillow.

"The stars gave me my answer. They gave me ya, Fayt."

"Roger…"

Unable to help himself, Fayt reached down to scratch behind one of the Menodix's ears. Roger leaned into the touch and let out a soft moan of pleasure. It was nothing more than an instinctive reaction, but its innocent sensuality was enough to make to make the Earthling blush and pull away.

Why the hell was he so… _attracted_ to this boy? Again, he rationalized that no, he was definitely not interested in the opposite gender, and spending two full days with Cliff certainly confirmed that; but he didn't know. There was just something about Roger that made him look longer, longer than how he looked at that Foxtail on Hyda IV. He just couldn't understand what though. Not yet at least.

"Honestly, I'm not sure what I can do." He lowered his gaze, fingers digging into the material of his pants. "I'm just a college student. Heck, I only just turned 19 this month."

"Nah ya ain't."

Roger inclined his head to shoot Fayt the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen.

"You're an angel."

Wide emerald eyes stared down at the Menodix, utterly lost and perplexed. Meanwhile, Roger's eyes grew heavy with sleep as he finally relented. His body relaxed and lay heavy on the soft mattress; his breathing started to even out; his ears twitched and his fingers automatically curled into his pillow.

"You're an angel, ya must be…" He mumbled into it. "Palmira sent me an angel…"

With that, Roger was out like a light, leaving Fayt to his own conflicted thoughts. Geez, what the hell did he get himself into?

He rose from Roger's bed and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. _Dammit!_ Everyone seemed to be throwing their hopes on him, and he couldn't help but consider his place in this whole mess. War and politics weren't exactly his specialty – he was more of a hack-and-slash, fun-and-games kind of guy – but even he realized how his experiences on Elicoor II were starting to change him.

'Do I really have it in me to stop this war?' he thought to himself miserably. 'But then there's that promise Roger wanted me to keep…'

"Argh!"

In his frustration, Fayt kicked something and when he looked down, he realized it was Roger's yellow backpack that was… all neatly packed?

"Huh?"

And then he remembered Nel in the hallway and Roger returning from their private talk with red, puffy eyes.

Was Roger… leaving?

With that realization, Fayt turned to gaze longingly at the slumbering Menodix, who'd somehow kicked the blanket off sometime in his sleep, and was snoring and lying unglamorously across the bed. Fayt stroked the boy's cheeks. Nothing. His fingers moved to cup to soft flesh. Still nothing. The kid was out like a light.

And so, he closed his eyes and leaned in, closer and ever closer, his mouth but a ghost of a kiss away from Roger's supple lips…

Fayt's eyes snapped opened and he pulled away.

He couldn't. No matter how irresistible the humanoid looked to him, he couldn't bring himself to take advantage of the boy like that. It would betray their trust and friendship – something that he desperately wanted to hold onto now that he knew Roger was going to disappear at sunrise; fade and slip past his fingers like a beautiful dream.

'Cliff can do one night without me,' he reasoned mentally.

Fayt's gaze lingered on the Menodix for a moment longer, before he turned away to blow out the candle, plunging the room into darkness. He crawled into the spare bed and brought the covers up to his chin. However, sleep didn't come easy for Fayt that night. Instead, he spent most of it staring into the impenetrable darkness, specifically in the direction of Roger's bed.

Eventually, he fell asleep with a troubled frown upon his brow.

Unbeknownst to the two boys, the bedroom door creaked open and in peaked Nel, fully dressed in her uniform. Her eyes travelled from one figure to the other, a sliver of regret present her violet eyes. Then, she straightened up, bowed deeply, before shutting the door. However, the Aquarian had left before she noticed the slightest twitching of Roger's keen ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we get some Fayt/Roger action! Fayt's made his move. How now, Albel? As we all know by now, Fayt's got a humanoid kink and cute lil Roger really isn't helping. Hopefully the situation at Gaitt is clearer to you guys now. If not, I'm happy to answer questions and will respond accordingly in the next update.
> 
> If you like my story so far, please leave a review. Always looking to improve and find out what you guys think!


	9. The Choices We Make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some explicit content in this chapter. Reader's discretion is advised.

A dark lone figure trekked through the Bequeral Mountain paths, against the frigid cold winds, which blew at the ends of a black fur cloak. Albel brought his clawed hand up to pull the cloak tighter against his person. His right hand grasped a katana coated in blood, the blade dragging behind him as he walked. The monsters on this barren wasteland were mere child's play. Still, thanks to that foolish peasant girl, he had much wasted time to make up for, and he hadn't slept a wink. Then again, it wasn't like he was unaccustomed to going without sleep. Nightmares tended to do that, and he'd been haunted by the past for nine years.

Albel spotted the faint outline of the royal city in the foggy distance and grimaced. If he'd known that bothersome brat's intentions had been Airyglyph all along, he would have saved himself the trip to that insufferable town, _and_ that agonizing injury to his arm... though, it did stop hurting after that boy's touch.

It was curious. It was as if his body had stopped fighting against the dragon's curse, like it was no longer there – all the discomfort, raw burn, and putrid stench of decay… gone. He held up his clawed hand and flexed his fingers: nothing – not even a dull ache. Either the little fool was a spectacularly gifted healer, or something else was afoot.

He started out of his thoughts when a sharp cry pierced through the air. A falcon descended upon him and perched on his shoulder, before extending its foot to reveal a rolled up piece of parchment attached to it. Albel's brow furrowed when he noticed its wax seal, a symbol he had grown far too familiar with and often played around with as a child. He plucked the missive from its leg and the falcon took off.

When he unrolled it, he immediately wished he hadn't.

_My boy,_

_It has come to my attention that you have been neglecting your duties and post as Black Brigade Captain and wartime commander. It is not my place to inquire into your private affairs, but it has been difficult negotiating your increasingly vulnerable position with His Majesty and Lord Vox._

_I believe I need not remind you of your place in this castle and this kingdom. You are Captain by honor, not by partisanship – do not allow anyone to think otherwise by your reckless candor. However, it is my privilege to be frank with you: your irresponsible leave and utter neglect of duties has put you at risk of losing your position and title as Captain and Military Commander of your unit. As I have made a promise to your father to look after you, I cannot disregard this._

_A report has come in from Shelby, your second-in-command, of the two Aquarian spies' capture. I have no doubt your men are awaiting orders. You are to report to the Kirlsa Training Facility at once._

_I trust you will not disappoint me._

_\- Woltar._

Albel gripped the missive so tightly his hand shook. That old fool – How _**dare**_ he order him around like some sorry infant? Woltar couldn't possibly hope to understand his plans and vision for Airyglyph: he'd get the humanoids on their side; accomplish something Vox himself had failed to do, and prove his worth amongst these wretched fools in this wretched kingdom. He'd write off the humiliation from his past once and for all.

But for now, he supposed he'd make a quick detour and show face.

"Bah! Those spineless fools wouldn't last a day without my command. Disgraceful."

Albel folded the parchment and shoved it under the armor faulds at his hips, when a soft, delicate red rose tumbled out and landed at his feet. Instinctively, he picked it up and stared intently at the crimson bloom. A sudden memory attacked him, one that was growing painfully difficult to forget.

' _I'm Roger by the way! What's yer name, mister?'_

"Roger…"

Albel tucked the rose back under his faulds and headed in the direction of the Kirlsa Training Facility. Perhaps he needed this distraction to think things over…

* * *

" _No! D-Don't come any closer!_ _Stay away!"_

_Fire blazed about them, consuming the ship's interior and licking at his feet. The unbearable heat and smoke hurt Fayt's throat and pricked at his eyes, but that didn't stop him in his struggle to peer over the wilds flames that burned and obstructed his vision. He coughed; oxygen levels were deteriorating and it was getting steadily harder to breathe._

" _Dad…?"_

_There he saw it: the vision of Robert Leingod standing protectively in front of his mom and Sophia. Fear clouded their eyes, terror radiating off their entire being; yet Fayt felt his father's courage and conviction as he leveled with an Vendeeni soldier, who pointed a gun at him. All this while, Fayt called out to him, to all of them desperately, but it was no use – none of them seemed to hear him, let alone see him. Just then, he saw Sophia turn to meet his gaze, frightened and betrayed._

" _Fayt… I'm scared…"_

_He reached out for her, but she didn't do the same._

" _Help…"_

_And then, a second soldier appeared and the pair fired their weapons, each one hitting the three of them dead in the chest. The flame wall between them disintegrated and Fayt could only gaze down helplessly, disbelievingly, at the cold, lifeless bodies of his parents and childhood friend. A whole second passed… two... three… before he crumpled to his knees, screaming and wailing as he felt his entire world come crashing down upon him in that instant._

" _NOOOOOOO!"_

_He scrambled over and with shaky fingers, traced the flesh of their cold cheeks. Then he wrapped his arms around his father's head, cradling him against his chest. The tears wouldn't stop flowing._

" _Dad… No… Oh God, no, please, no! I'm sorry... I'm so sorry!"_

"… _Fayt?"_

_His eyes snapped open at the sound of that familiar voice, pupils dilating in horror. No… no, no, no, no – but he was powerless as he watched the Vendeeni bring up Roger by the arms, forcing the poor Menodix onto his knees before him. A gun was pointed to his temple and Roger stared miserably, fearfully, into tear-filled eyes of emerald. Fayt felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest._

_This wasn't happening._

" _Fayt… why did ya lie ta me?"_

" _No, Roger – "_

_The Vendeeni pulled the trigger and the Menodix collapsed onto the ground in a pool of his own blood. The fires roared and burned brighter and hotter than before._

_He gripped his head and screamed._

* * *

"Aaahhhhhhhh!"

Fayt shot out of bed and promptly smacked both Cliff and Roger in the face. He panted heavily, catching his breath, his heart beating a tattoo against his ribs. It took a few seconds for his brain to register that his vision had only been a dream – a sick, twisted, horrible dream. But it felt so real: his parents' and Sophia's cold, heavy bodies at his feet, the sound of those guns, the Vendeeni's cruelty, and the sadness and betrayal swimming in Roger's eyes – _Roger!_

Fayt immediately whirrled to face him, but the sight of Roger moaning and cupping his cheek miserably, immediately caused him to feel bad for his actions, even if they had been unconscious.

Cliff rubbed his bruised jaw and regarded him in obvious irritation.

"For Pete's sake, kid – calm the hell down! It was just a nightmare."

"Urgh… was it?" Fayt felt a headache coming on. "It felt so real though."

"What did you dream of?"

"…Nothing."

"Riiiiight," said Cliff, folding his arms.

"Never mind my dream. Just drop it, ok?"

Roger crawled across the sheets and sat on Fayt's lap, flailing his arms to get his attention.

"Not ta interrupt your chat or anythin', but we kinda got more pressin' matters ta deal with."

"The pipsqueak's right: Nel's gone."

"Who ya callin' a pipsqueak, ya big lummox?!"

"Look in a mirror, wise guy!"

And as Cliff and Roger launched into another one of their petty arguments, Fayt sighed and chanced a glance out the bedroom window. The skies were still dark, but it could easily be anywhere between dusk and dawn. Didn't Nel say it was her mission to personally escort Cliff and himself to Aquois? He wondered what could make her abandon her mission so abruptly.

"How do you know she's gone? Maybe she'll be back by morning," he suggested.

"I'm not too sure about that, kid."

Roger snarled and tried to swipe at Cliff wit his nails, but the burly man held him back by pushing a palm in his face.

"I got a feeling things are going to be pretty hectic today."

"What makes you say that?"

"Just… a hunch."

"Oh we know all about _those_ …"

"Funny guy."

Roger managed to pry Cliff's hand off his face with a loud gasp. What was this moron trying to do? Kill him?!

Before he could lunge at him, Fayt casually wrapped his arms around Roger's waist and held him against chest, no different than how a child would grab and hug a plush toy or a pillow. It was a completely unconscious action, one which left Fayt indifferent as he continued speaking to Cliff. Roger's cheeks crimsoned in anger and embarrassment. He hated being so small.

"Anyway, to answer your question, she behaved really strangely last night."

Fayt was unable to help the knowing smirk that spread across his lips. "Alone again? You guys seriously need to get a room…"

"Don't get cheeky with me, kid, it wasn't a date. I only found out because of that fur ball in your arms." He pointed at the Menodix, who bristled from the title.

"If I'd known you kids were having a sleepover, I wouldn't have stayed up waiting for you." Cliff didn't give Fayt an opportunity to protest. "God knows how late it was, but Nel came in and I pretended to sleep, and get this: she bowed and walked out. Now who the hell bows if they're going to see you tomorrow?"

"He's right, Fayt," said Roger, wriggling out of the embrace. "I heard her come in here too."

Fayt shot them both an irritated scowl. "And why didn't anyone wake me?"

"… We tried," Roger deadpanned, his cheek still a little red from that previous smack.

"Yeah. You were kicking and screaming like a pansy!"

"I was not!"

" _GUYS."_

The two older men paused to gaze down questionably at Roger, who let out an exasperated sigh. Honestly, had they even forgotten the whole point of this late night rendezvous?

"Guys, I'm really worried about her," he said, a slight nervousness creeping into his voice. "Last evening, Nel said that some soldiers are escortin' me ta my home. But I found it weird cuz Nel's the only Aquarian – or human – that knows how ta find Surferio. The Lost City doesn't just appear in front of anyone, ya know."

Cliff and Fayt traded looks of concern, the older of the two lowering his voice into a whisper.

"Hey, you think it has anything to do with what I overheard back in Kirlsa?"

"You mean at the cemetery?" At Cliff's nod, Fayt hummed in consideration. "Could be. I already called it after we got kicked out of that wagon. I don't see what else would make Nel react so carelessly like that."

"Hey! Watcha whisperin' 'bout? What did ya hear at Kirlsa?" Roger tilted his head as he regarded them. "What's goin' on? Tell me!"

Inwardly, Fayt cursed at his negligence. _Of course_ – Roger was a humanoid and everyone knew how keen their senses were.

"Never mind that." He brushed the whole matter aside, facing Cliff.

"I don't give a damn what her 'new mission' is, but she told us that she'd bring us safely to the royal city. I may not know her for long, but I got the impression she would never leave a mission unfinished."

What was he saying? He never expected to feel this much concern for the inflexible, mission-oriented Aquarian… but something definitely didn't feel right. As much as this seemed like the perfect opportunity to get out of this place and resume their original mission of finding his father, Fayt wasn't _that_ heartless. Nel had risked life from limb to rescue them from Airyglyph's dungeons and guide them safely into Aquarian territory. It was impossible to feel anything but gratitude towards her. Besides, like it or not, she did have a caring side and her loyalty to those around her was admirable. Nel couldn't help but grow on you.

"So what do we do now?" He looked to Roger, who shot him an uncertain look in return.

It was Cliff who responded, a look of determination set upon his face.

"We get some answers." He grabbed the handle of the bedroom door and threw it open. "And I know just the person to see."

* * *

Cliff pounded anxiously on Clair's door.

"Come on, _come on…_ I know you're awake! I don't have all night."

Behind him, Fayt and Roger quirked their eyebrows. Sure, they were all worried about Nel, but it seemed the Klausian's concern bordered on a whole new level. The poor innocent door didn't deserve his wrath. They would have laughed if the situation weren't so serious.

Just when Cliff was about to deliver another hard knock on the old wood, the door opened with a soft 'click' and he had to pull back quickly before he accidentally punched Clair in the face. The young Commander stared at them in alarm.

"Cliff, Fayt, Roger." She took in their tense appearances, each one fully dressed and equipped for action. "Can I help you?"

"Where's Nel?" Cliff blurted before either Fayt or Roger could get the first word in. They sighed and shook their heads. So much for subtlety.

Clair regarded them in surprise.

"Nel? She's… uh…" she trailed off, eyes darting to the side. "She had other duties to attend to." Then she smiled pleasantly at the three men. "Don't worry. I'm taking over her duties as far as you two are concerned. As for you, Roger, Nel should've informed you about your escort."

"Yeah, but – " She held up a hand to stop him.

"As much as I admire your spirit, Roger, it is imperative that I see to your safe return to your village. We risk further problems that might blossom between our nations' already strained ties."

She shifted her attention to Fayt and Cliff.

"And if you're concerned about our negotiations, don't be. Regardless of the conditions Nel set up for you, you're still in Aquarian territory. Even if you refuse to assist us, I can guarantee your safety."

A small smile inched its way across her lips. "Please try to understand: we have to retain custody of you two until we reach the royal city of Aquois, but you may provide us with your answer at that point."

All sense of urgency died on Fayt and Cliff's lips at that instant. This was… new. Not to mention entirely reasonable compared to what Nel had been telling them thus far. Clair's words were so appealing that it momentarily made Cliff forget the reason they barged in in the first place.

"Wow, you're really bending over backwards to meet us half-way."

She smiled at them sadly.

"To be honest, I'd like you to work for us, but this is not your war. Our deaths and the lives of our country, aren't in your hands. You need not feel obligated, and we have no right to force you to help."

Fayt winced. "Now you're making me feel guilty…"

But then, something suddenly occurred to him. This was a woman who knew Nel better than anyone in this country. Whether or not she spoke the truth, one thing was beginning to make itself increasingly transparent – a great shift in topic like this meant that Clair was most likely staling them, or at least distracting them. He had to try something.

"Clair, you said that if I had any questions, I'm free to ask?"

"Yes, of course."

"Alright, I'll ask – what's Nel's new mission?"

Clair's eyes widened a fraction. "Why would you ask that? She's no longer your concern."

'Bingo.'

"Is it about the girls?"

"What makes you think it's about Tynave and Farlee –" She snapped her mouth shut as soon as she realized she got duped. Three pairs of eyes narrowed in suspicion and she lowered her gaze, finally relenting.

"Then it's true," Cliff interrupted, his voice rising as he grew steadily worked up. "She left to rescue Tynave and Farleen from Airyglyph."

When all she did was nod in silence, he growled and slammed his fist into the wall just next to her ear.

"If you knew what she was doing, why the hell didn't you stop her!?"

"Cliff, calm down!"

Fayt yanked him back in case he ended up doing more than break down walls. Next to him, Roger's face had completely drained of color when he heard the Commander's confession.

"A-A-Airyglyph?! All alone? _She'll die!"_ He pushed past the two men and gripped the ends of Clair's skirt. "I'm not leavin' fer Surferio until I know she's safe! I risked too much coming here ta have her die on me! Nel's family – _my_ family!"

"Roger, I – "

"Tell me what happened, Clair." His wide, childlike eyes narrowed into a glare. "Tell me everythin'."

Said woman had little choice but to comply, clearly cornered. She buried her face in her hands to collect herself, before letting them fall to her sides.

"Alright, you deserve the truth."

She stepped out of her room, closed the door behind her and motioned for the trio to follow her.

"Around the time Fayt and Cliff arrived at Kirlsa, we received a message from Airyglyph. Tynave and Farleen were taken hostage and they demanded you two in exchange." She paused at the foot of the stairs and shut her eyes. "This isn't possible… so she resolved to rescue them. That's Nel for you."

"Smells like a trap," said Roger, wrinkling his nose.

"Most likely, yes."

Fayt and Cliff were utterly devastated. What the hell was that woman thinking?! The odds of her success were ultimately zero! Did she deem her life so insignificant to simply throw it away like that? What about the people who actually _cared_?

"I tried to stop her," said Clair as she turned to meet Cliff's glare, "but she wouldn't listen. Nel would never abandon those who earned her trust."

"God dammit!" He swung a fist at the air, hating himself for not anticipating this. He'd been at the cemetery. He heard her. He should've known, should've stayed close...

Fayt watched Cliff silently; no doubt the guy was beating himself up over sheer guilt and worry. The Klausian appeared to be all carefree and flippant, but Fayt knew that beneath that tough, Quark-rebel exterior, the man had a heart of gold and was secretly a big softie, especially for Nel. And then there was Roger who looked exceptionally close to having a nervous breakdown. The boy had watched her walk out of his life once and now he had to deal with the possibility of losing her again. Fayt knew that he'd eventually learn to regret his decision at some point or other, but right now, he couldn't care less what his brain thought. After that nightmare he had, there was no way he was going to let any of his friends die without a fight – not if he could help it.

"Clair, where did Nel go to rescue them?"

Clair frowned in uncertainty. "Why do you want to know?"

"I can't let her do this alone – correction," he nodded at his company, " _we_ won't let her do this alone. Her life is more valuable than that!"

He unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Clair. "We're going to rescue Nel. I have a few words to say to her."

"All right Fayt!"

Cliff cheered and pumped a fist into the air, all too eager for a good Glyphian pounding session. His eyes softened when the Earthling met his gaze.

"Thanks, kid. I owe you one."

"Nah, the feeling's mutual, Cliff."

"I'm commin' too!"

They turned to stare down at the feisty Menodix in amazement.

"But it's going to be dangerous, Roger." Fayt shook his head. "No, I can't allow you to come with us. I won't allow Airyglyph to use you as their weapon."

"Hah! Did ya really think I'd just kneel over and let them take me without a fight?" Roger threw them a cocky smirk and drew his axe from its holster, twirling itexpertly between his fingers.

"My pops is the Prime Minister and ex-commander of the Sanmite militia. Don't go thinkin' I can't hold my ground now!"

Clair had heard enough.

"I can't allow this!" She stomped her foot with finality. "I'm supposed to keep you guys safe. Nel told me of your skills – and believe me, I'm well aware of your capacity for battle – but this enemy is too strong, even for you!"

While Fayt continued to look at Roger with concern and uncertainty, and as the boy did his best to convince him, Cliff turned to the Aquarian Commander and flashed her a confident smile.

"And that's why it's going to be the three of us." He indicated at the others. "Besides, when Fayt gets all riled up like this, he can get even nastier than Nel. And if we get into a tight spot, maybe Roger can give them rabies. Point is, they're the most stubborn pair around."

"Hey!/Hey!"

He chuckled. "See?"

Clair regarded them nervously, helplessly. Yes, she definitely wanted her best friend back safe and sound, but could she ask these men to help them? This wasn't their war and wasn't any of their business. Also, was it reasonable to endanger Roger like that and get him more involved in their situation than he already was? She was more or less confident about Cliff and Fayt, but Roger… No, Nel had personally trained him for two years and he hadn't been lying when he said he had combat background courtesy of his father. Furthermore, she had a feeling Fayt wouldn't allow Airyglyph to take the boy without a fight, not after she'd seen how affectionately he looked at him.

As Fayt helped Roger load up some gadgets from his bag into his overall pockets, she gave all her attention to Cliff.

"Right. What's the plan?"

"Only the three of us will go," he replied gruffly. "We'll just be asking for them to spot us if we march in there with an army."

"But our soldiers – "

"Can't be spared." Cliff finished with finality. "Not with your situation here. Removing them from their posts will leave Arias open for attack."

"That's true, but…"

"Hey." Clair inclined her gaze to meet Cliff's assuring grin. "You're not the only one who cares deeply for Nel, so you can bet on my life I'll bring her back safe."

He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Nel trusted us; you should too."

As if on cue, something exploded in the background and Fayt and Roger scrambled about to put out the fire on the hallway carpet. Apparently, Fayt's grip slipped and one of Roger's land mines exploded on the ground. Cliff chuckled awkwardly when Clair regarded him through narrowed eyes.

"What did I tell you?"

With a sigh, she shut her eyes and in spite of everything, managed a small smile.

"Alright. I trust you."

Fayt approached them once he finished helping Roger equip himself. Seriously, the kid had _a lot_ of stuff.

"Where's the exchange of the hostages taking place?"

"A building on the southeastern side of Kirlsa," she explained, her expression dark. "It was originally constructed as a training facility, but now they execute people there. It's also the Black Brigade's Headquarters."

"T-T-The Black Brigade?"

Roger visibly trembled, his earlier bravado disappearing at the mention of that particular military unit. The Black Brigade meant Albel Nox – the very man he was so desperately trying to avoid; the vicious, bloodthirsty Captain who was hunting him down like a beast to its prey.

As Cliff received the necessary directions from Clair, Fayt lowered himself to Roger's level and sought his gaze.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently.

Roger bit his lip, ears twitching in agitation. "A-Abel leads the Black Brigade…"

Fayt chuckled at his nervousness. Was that all? He had faced up to many tough challenges before, and no homicidal, psychotic swordsman from hell was going to stop him from bringing Nel back. Besides, he had another reason to give his all today.

He cupped Roger's cheeks and leaned in, pressing his forehead against the boy's own. They gazed into each others eyes – Roger's anxious and Fayt's sincere.

"I'll protect you," he whispered tenderly. "I won't let any harm come to you. I swear upon my life."

'But he doesn't understand', Roger thought to himself desperately as the pools of emerald hypnotized him into submission. It wasn't death or physical pain he feared, but the consequences of Albel recognizing him, which would inevitably place everyone's lives at risk. The Glyphian swordsman was hell-bent on capturing him and he seriously doubted he'd hesitate killing whoever stood in his way. If everyone died – if Fayt died – because of him, he knew he could never live that down for the rest of his life. But if he chickened out and stayed behind, one man short could cost the team and everyone would also die.

And so, Roger did the only thing he could do at a time like this - he leaned into Fayt's embrace and placed his hands upon the swordsman's own.

"O-Ok."

* * *

Grand tapestries on stonewall loomed overhead, the Black Brigade's insignia of a black sword and lance stitched upon their surfaces. Torches were set ablaze, the embers crackling. Cries of tortured women begging desperately for release, the occasional grunting and slapping noises of skin against skin – these were the sounds that reverberated throughout the chamber, muffled by a wooden door at the far end. Amidst the screams and pleas sat Sir Shelby – fearsome and forbidding lieutenant of Airyglyph's Heavy Calvary. By his feet rested his mace, which he had put aside in favor of taking a swing from his bottle of wine. He gulped the liquor down greedily, noisily, immune to the burn as it seared a path down his throat. Shelby was in high spirits – the war was still ongoing, but his victory was in near-sight.

If he successfully captured that pesky Crimson Blade spy, he'd server Aquaria's eyes and ears and Airyglyph would gain the element of surprise once more. He'd lead his men to victory over Arias and after that, Peterny. Everyone knew about the unwavering loyalty between Aquarians – soldiers and ordinary folk alike. The compassion of those followers of Apris was renown and really played into his hands. Capture one and another comes running – too convenient.

And he owed none of his foresight to that no-good Albel Nox.

For two whole days and counting, his _dear_ Captain was nowhere to be found. Albel had disappeared shortly after that strange object landed in the royal kingdom, and left not a word or shred of instruction in his absence. No one, not even Woltar, knew the nature of the youth's exploits, but Shelby figured it didn't matter as long as Albel stayed out of his business. That failure of a dragon knight was an eyesore and he believed he wasn't the only one who thought so. As far as he was concerned, that murdering psychopath deserved to be nothing more than canon fodder; and to think that he, _Sir_ Shelby, had to take orders from the likes of _that? P_ reposterous!

Despite the rivalry between the Black Brigade and the Dragon Brigade, he and Vox could at least agree on one thing: Glou's boy had outstayed his welcome in the military.

Noticing a shadow in the distance, he lowered his drink.

"This better be good news."

A knight clad in black armor approached his superior and knelt before him. He was obviously nervous – Shelby could smell his fear.

"Forgive me, milord." The knight bowed his head. "We had the Crimson Blade spy cornered, but she put up quite a fight. I've dispatched more men to deal with her."

Shelby slammed his mace into the ground. "I ordered you to apprehend her, _not_ admire her!"

He raised his axe with his other hand and placed it threateningly under the knight's chin. "Don't come back until you've captured Nel Zelpher."

"Milord – "

" _What now?_ "

Why was it so difficult to get some order around here?

"… Our sentries have spotted three suspicious men within the compound. Based on our intelligence, two of them might be the escapees. The third…"

Shelby scowled at his indecision. "Go on."

"Well, we…" The knight regarded him skeptically. "We believe the third to be a… humanoid, milord."

Shelby relinquished his grip on his axe. A _humanoid?_ From the Sanmite Republic? Impossible! But even if it was, it didn't hurt to be absolutely sure. And with the two escapees? He wondered what sort of relationship those strange foreigners had with a member of the humanoid race. Have they come to rescue the spy? Now _this_ was unexpected.

A feral grin crept across his face. "Find and capture them all. Whether the humanoid lives or dies is none of my concern; but I need the two escapees alive."

"Should I report this to our Captain, Sir?"

"What for?" Shelby sneered. "At the rate things are going, _I'll_ be your _new_ captain once this day is through!"

Shelby rose from his seat and started pacing in front of him.

"A Crimson Blade spy, a humanoid, and the two escapees – all in one place and I don't even have to lift a finger." He threw back his head in a cruel bark. "Ha! Credit when credit's due. With these accolades, _I'd_ be promoted to Captain and I'll remove that sorry excuse of a dragon knight from _my_ brigade, myself."

Oh how he _dreamed_ of this day. He was sick and tired of kneeling over and taking orders from a man half his age, whom didn't even seem the least bit interested in upholding the kingdom's pride. So what if the man's skill with the blade was commendable? Albel was nothing more than a self-centered child, grubbing for reverence and authority, who treated them all as his personal punching bags. If not for his Majesty's regard and Woltar's guardianship, Albel would have lost his position from in-house mutiny a long time ago.

"Hmph. You've done well, soldier."

"Thank you, milord."

Just then, the wooden door at the chamber's corner slammed open and two other Black Brigade soldiers stepped out, chuckling and adjusting their armor into decency. Shelby smirked and motioned them over.

"It seems we have more than just a Crimson Blade spy on our hands. Assemble the others and see to it that the three intruders are apprehended."

"Yes sir!" They saluted and took their leave, leaving Shelby alone in the presence of the first knight. He smirked, indicating at the open door.

"Since no one is keeping the hostages… _entertained_ ," he stressed with a perverse grin, "go right ahead. They may kick and scream, but those temple whores love it."

The knight hesitated.

"But sir, our Captain would never permit such acts – even towards our enemies."

Shelby growled and dragged the knight up by the front of his armor, his stare malevolent and tyrannical.

"Well our _Captain_ isn't here right now, is he?"

* * *

The trio stepped forward, careful to keep their footsteps to a minimum in the dimly lit, silent compound. Stealth was crucial... so Cliff had shoved one of his gloves into Roger's mouth just in case.

"No one's here," Fayt whispered, uneasy. "Do you think we're too late?"

Cliff's concern shifted into a scowl. "Don't say that."

Roger spat out his makeshift gag, but all conviction to let the big oaf have a piece of his mind, died on his lips. His ears twitched and he immediately drew his axe, getting into an offensive stance.

"Guys, I hate ta be a party pooper, but we got company."

No sooner had Fayt and Cliff assumed attack positions, did a group of soldiers spring at them from the shadows, but thanks to the Menodix's early warning, they managed to mitigate the ambush. While Cliff grabbed the nearest guard and proceeded to pummel his brains out, Roger pulled back and withdrew a steel whip from his arsenal. He ghosted the tips of his fingers over its base, feeling the weapon heat up as he summoned the power of flames. Occupied, he failed to detect an oncoming assault.

Fayt rushed to his defense and quickly intercepted the soldier's blade with his own.

The clash of metal rang throughout the corridor as he forced his opponent back with a yell. Then, he quickly closed the distance by charging straight at the winded guard and performed an impressive back flip, lifting the man into the air with the tip of his sword and dealt two quick stabs at his vitals, before the poor guard could even hit the ground.

"You alright!?" he called over his shoulder. The guard lay unconscious.

"Y-yeah."

Roger could only gape at the spectacle while the swordsman moved on to the next guard. He'd never seen Fayt fight before, but his agility and proficiency with the sword was enough to eliminate any doubts he might have had about the guy's combat skills. It seemed he wasn't your regular engineer - Fayt could _really_ kick ass.

"A little help here!"

Speaking of kicking ass…

Cliff wrestled with a soldier wielding a particularly formidable weapon. With the Klausian preoccupied, the remaining soldiers seized the opportunity and charged him, but Roger reacted swiftly; and what he lacked in movement speed he made up with precision and a whole lot of pain.

"Whirling heat!"

The steel whip shot out and wrapped around the approaching guards, the hotness cutting straight through their armor. Their struggles caused Roger to grin in triumph.

"Time for a lil spin!" He gave a hard tug, causing the guards to whirl in place like a giant top.

"All yours ya moron!"

"I'll deal with your mouth later!" Cliff charged towards the disoriented guards and leaped into the air, bringing both arms back as he readied his swing.

"Hammer of might!"

The walls shook from the force of the impact and when the dust cleared, five miserable Glyphian soldiers lay in a gaping crater, unconscious and thoroughly defeated. Fayt and Roger approached the smug Klausian, who dusted his hands.

"Man, what a bunch of pushovers! I think we got this one in the bag."

Roger stood there stunned. "Did you just – in one – _what the heck_ _ **are**_ _ya!?_ "

"Try 'insane and excessively violent'," said Fayt with a sigh, folding his arms.

Cliff winked and gave him a thumbs-up. "Why else do you think they made me your bodyguard?"

Bodyguard? Roger frowned, tail twitching. Fayt _did_ mention he was on a mission to rescue his dad... was Cliff to him something like what Nel was to them? He realized there were still many things left unsaid by the duo, and with their fighting abilities, he was inclined to believe they were more than just your average engineers.

"Is anything wrong?" asked Fayt as he felt Roger's curious gaze on him.

"Nah. Just thinkin'."

"Now _that's_ a surprise."

Roger's tail bristled from Cliff's remark.

"What's that supposed ta mean, ya big jerk?" He sized up the blonde with a glare, or as much as he could given his short stature. "I don't see _ya_ doing much 'cept yellin' and smashin'."

"Big mouth for someone so puny."

" _I'm gonna wring yer neck!"_

Roger made to pounce on him, but Fayt immediately grabbed the back of the boy's collar. The Menodix dangled in midair, kicking and snarling, while Cliff simply snickered and patted him on the helm with mock affection. Fayt released an exasperated sigh. It's not that he didn't have faith in Roger's combat abilities, but he was pretty sure Cliff would concuss him in under a second. Plus he didn't think carrying around an injured teammate would do them any good. He placed Roger back on the ground, arms on his hips.

"That's enough," he hissed, "Aren't you guys forgetting why we're even here in the first place?"

"Why not tell the _brat_ that?" Cliff jabbed a finger at a fuming Roger. "He's the one running his damned mouth all the time."

"Well I wouldn't have ta if _someone_ actually used his brain before – " He stopped, nose twitching. That scent.

"Nel!"

"Roger wait!"

But the Menodix was off, making a left down the corridor until he reached a dead end where a set of towering doors loomed over him. He pressed his ear against solid oak, his nose kicking into overdrive. No doubt about it; Nel was behind this door. He backed then threw his shoulder against it, but the barrier didn't budge, didn't even emit a sound.

"Nel!"

No answer; the wood was way too thick and probably soundproof.

Roger raised his axe, the edge of its blade burning with his spell. He swung the weapon, but only succeeded in getting the blade lodged into the door. It barely even penetrated the thing. Roger gritted his teeth and tugged hard, and that was how Fayt and Cliff found him: both feet planted against the door as he fought to tug his axe out.

With a sigh, Fayt got behind him and reached around, grabbing the handle to tug along with him.

"Roger – grunt – don't go – _hnrgh_ – running off like that." The axe came loose and the Menodix was back on his feet. "What if there were more guards? I told you to stay close – "

"No time!" Roger interrupted him, pointing at the giant barricade. "Nel's behind this door and I heard shouts. I think she's in trouble."

Fayt's expression turned solemn. "Are you sure?"

"Ya darn tootin' I'm sure!"

Cliff pushed past them and cracked his knuckles, a determined scowl upon his face.

"Let me try."

He withdrew his fist and delivered a hard strike at the door, but it simply shuddered from the impact and fell still. Cliff threw a few more punches at it, delivered a number of brutal kicks, and even threw himself against the surface. Nothing.

"Blast!" His fist connected against the door and remained there, clenching. "It's probably fortified on the other side. We need another way in."

Fayt's eyes trailed down to an inconspicuous lock on the door's front.

"Looks like our only way is to find the key." He met Cliff's gaze. "I'm sure those soldiers back there aren't the last of our worries. With any luck, one might be carrying the key."

"You suggesting we take 'em all out?" said Cliff with a smirk.

Fayt returned the look and punched a fist into an open palm.

"I'm not suggesting it. I'm _saying_ we do it."

"Are ya crazy?!"

Roger held onto his helm, utterly mortified. "There's gotta be a hundred guards in this building!"

Suddenly, Fayt shushed him as he crept behind a pillar, motioning for them to do the same. A shadow of an approaching guard fell against the opposite wall. In one hand, Fayt held his sword at ready, while he slowly raised the other; and that was when Roger witnessed something fantastic, something he'd never seen Fayt do before. A ball of fire gathered in the palm of the swordsman's hand and he touched it to his sword. The fire rushed along the blade's length and doused the entire weapon in flames; however, the heat didn't seem to affect him in the least. In fact, it gave him a look of conviction in his usually temperate gaze.

The guard drew nearer and Fayt braced himself.

"Then we best get started."

He surged forward at inhuman speed and struck hard, burning a hole in the guard's armor – raw and beautiful in its savagery, like a gaping wound across a blood-red sky.

* * *

"Any sign of the intruders?"

"Not yet. But they're taking out the rest one by one. Stay sharp."

"Right."

Three heads peered cautiously around a wall, taking in the sight of half a dozen Black Brigade soldiers gathered in the middle of the walkway. It seemed that with the recent turn of events, they were beginning to stick together during their patrols.

"Now what?" Cliff whispered, to which Fayt shrugged.

"Not sure. If we attack them head-on, we'd be outnumbered. I don't think it's worth the risk."

"You're telling me. They're being really sticky though. We got to shake them loose somehow."

As the two men discussed between themselves, Roger took his time to observe the situation and the environment. His eyes darted between the group of soldiers, the large chandeliers above, and then back down at the soldiers. Finally, he mentally calculated the distance between them and himself. It was a long shot, but with the right timing, he believed he could make this work.

"Guys, I have a plan."

Cliff raised an eyebrow, skeptical. " _You_ have a plan."

"Yes, _I have a plan_ ," he repeated through clenched teeth. "Ya just gotta trust me."

Fayt lowered himself to Roger's level. "I'm all ears."

Roger indicated at the group of oblivious soldiers.

"They're not splittin', so we'll take advantage of that." He fixed his gaze on Cliff, determined. "I need ya ta throw me like ya _really_ mean it."

A wicked grin spread across said man's face as he cracked his knuckles with gusto.

" _That_ I can do."

Roger gulped.

* * *

"Hey, they haven't appeared yet," said one soldier to the rest. "Do you think they've already been captured?"

"Possibly," said another. "Sir Shelby _did_ dispatch the entire unit. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide."

"Hah! As expected, they're no match for the Black Briga - "

"Think again ya morons!"

Roger sailed over their heads and flung down a bunch of land mines, before using his whip to catch onto the chandelier above. A series of powerful explosions ripped through the compound, the land mines detonating upon impact. In that brief moment, the third floor of the Kirlsa Training Facility descended into utter chaos, the screams of terrified soldiers mingling with blasts of firepower and crumbling debris. A few guards who survived the attack tried desperately to crawl away, but Roger acted quickly and gave his whip a hard tug, effectively shattering the rusty chain that held the chandelier in place. Then, twisting his body in mid-air, he shot his whip out once more to latch onto another chandelier further off, sailing over the chaos. The first chandelier crashed onto the remaining guards, their feeble cries of pain sounding about, before they passed out.

Cliff gaped at the spectacle, downright speechless. When the Menodix said he had a plan, boy, did he _really_ have a plan. He eyed an equally impressed Fayt from the corner of his eye.

"Remind me to never get on his dark side."

"I think you're already on it," he chuckled.

Fayt approached the chandelier, which Roger dangled from and spread his arms.

"Come on, I'll catch you."

The Menodix looked down nervously. It was a pretty far drop.

"Y-Ya sure?"

Fayt beckoned him with an encouraging smile. "Yeah, just let go and I'll – "

_CRASH!_

The pair landed none-too graciously, with Fayt sprawled-eagle on the cold, hard floor and Roger's face buried in the swordsman's chest. Fayt groaned as he slowly sat up, his hand flying to the back of his head to message a growing bump. Damn, for a small boy, Roger sure was heavy...

At the same time, the child let out his own moan of discomfort as he slowly slid from Fayt's torso to sit upon his lap. He cupped his nose with one hand and whined pitifully in a manner that could only be described as adorable.

" _Ow…_ buh'ai d'ose…"

Fayt gazed at him in concern and reached out, gently coaxing Roger's fingers away to get a good look.

"Shh… Let me see that."

He cupped the boy's cheeks and stared at his little nose, which twitched every now and then under his scrutiny. Then he touched it gently, pinching the bridge. Nothing broken as far as he could tell.

"It's just sore and a little red; nothing serious."

He smiled, gaze tender as he brought up a hand to caress Roger's cheek. He dipped his head a little to get a good view of those wide, chocolate eyes. "You were amazing back there, you know that?"

His words held so much pride and affection that it made the Menodix blush prettily in response, his tail wagging in enthusiasm. Fayt was complimenting him – he'd never been commended for anything before, and to have it come from the handsome blue-haired swordsman, he reckoned that this was possibly the best day of his life thus far.

"Ya really think so, Fayt?"

Said male grabbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted his eyes to meet his own. Roger's breath caught in his throat as he found himself at the mercy of the man's enchanting emerald gaze, which shone with unspoken affection.

"I know so," he breathed.

Fayt closed his eyes and slowly leaned in...

"Ahem!"

Cliff folded his arms as he stared down at the pair – Roger flustered and Fayt ostensibly annoyed.

"Kid, you can play Romeo some other time. Right now, let's focus on saving Nel."

Cliff extended his hand and Fayt took it grumpily, rising to his feet.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

The Klausian chuckled, giving him a knowing look. "Sure you don't."

"Never mind. Let's just find the damn key."

Unfortunately, Roger's previous stunt proved futile: none of these soldiers carried a key on their person. Also, seeing as they reached the facility's top floor, these were probably the last few guards in the building.

An impatient sigh escaped Fayt's lips as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. _Dammit!_ He'd been so sure that at least _one_ guard had the key. This was the Black Brigade headquarters after all. It only made sense that their soldiers would have access to all parts of the facility. What the hell did he miss?

"Maybe we should redouble our efforts – split up and hunt down any guards we've possibly missed out," he suggested, but Cliff shook his head, disapproving.

"Out of the question, kid. Each one of us is on Airyglyph's wanted list; and what happens if one of us encounters the man-in-charge himself? 'Albel the Wicked' was it? – What then?"

Fayt found himself scowling at the mention of that name. Sure, that man was responsible for the destruction of Arias, but Roger had breathed the Captain's name so fearfully, it made him wonder what the hell the guy could have possibly done to him. It wasn't like Roger to quake in the presence of danger – in fact, he got the impression that the humanoid _lived_ on danger with an added propensity for trouble. If this Albel guy really did do something to him, hurt him, then he'd hunt the bastard down, _break his spine…_

"Then we'll take him out like we did with all the others."

"Don't go rushing into things, Fayt." Cliff cautioned against his reckless attitude. "I got a hunch Albel isn't like these pushovers."

"Or maybe," Roger interrupted, sniffing enthusiastically at the air, "we should all take a break and look fer the kitchen! I'm staaaaaaaaarrvin'!"

Cliff felt a vein in his head pop.

"Seriously!? Well then, how does a knuckle sandwich sound?"

"Cliff, wait!" Fayt quickly inserted himself between him and Roger. "I think Roger has a point."

" _Bah!_ Are you even hearing yourself?"

"I'm serious!" He glared at him. "None of the guards have the key... maybe the building's caretaker carries it? Either way, a kitchen means cooks and servants. It's worth a shot."

They continued with their staring contest, but Fayt was sticking to his guns.

"Do you want to save Nel or not?"

Cliff faltered, relenting with an indisposed grunt.

Fayt turned to Roger, eyes shining with renewed vigor. "Any chance of locating the kitchen?"

The Menodix raised his arm in a playful salute.

"Leave _that_ ta me!"

* * *

Roger poked his nose through the kitchen entrance, the twitching little thing doing most of the leading than his own two feet. Wasn't there a saying that the only way into a man's heart was through his stomach? That sounded about right, and he was a real man, so the rest was pretty self-explanatory. He never considered himself a picky eater – in fact, his mama often complained he wasn't discerning enough as he often ate himself into a sick stupor; but he couldn't help it. How else was he going to grow into a real man and fit into his pops' shoes? Besides, the laws of nature dictated that food was placed in this world for consumption, and who was he to argue against nature?

He breathed in the tantalizing aromas of potato, onions, carrots, and other unidentifiable scents. Gosh, whatever they were cooking in here smelt _so good…_

"Get back here!" Cliff yanked his back by the tail. He and Fayt stood by the entrance's blind spot.

"One look at that tail of yours and it's all over."

"Then what do ya suggest we do, ya moron?"

Cliff spared one quick glance into the kitchen, before shooting them a cheeky grin.

"Oho! This is sweet - there's a young lady inside, real pretty too." He grabbed a startled Fayt by the shoulders and steered him towards the kitchen. "You're up!"

"Wha – Hey!"

"Don't be so nervous," he chided. "Just pretend you're lost and flash her one of your charming smiles or something. I'd imagine working in this depressing joint long enough would make anyone believe anything."

"Then why don't _you_ do it?" Fayt hissed while Cliff chuckled.

"Are you crazy? I'm old enough to be her father! Besides, you're handsome – go on, fur ball, tell him he's handsome. He'll believe you."

Fayt shook his head frantically. "But – "

"No buts, kid."

And with one final shove, Fayt practically flew into the cozy little kitchen and crashed straight into a table. Cliff and Roger winced in unison.

"Ya think Fayt's gonna be ok?" murmured the Menodix. "What if she recognizes him?"

The Klausian waved him off. "Nah, Fayt's got this one in the bag. Besides, I saw three girls fighting over him before. He'll be fine."

Meanwhile, Fayt rose to his feet and dusted himself off, an irritated scowl upon his face. He was totally going to kill Cliff for this later. Whatever happened to logic and good manners? With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly raised his head, only to find himself staring into a pair of wide obsidian irises. Their owner blinked at him curiously.

"H-Hello sir, may I help you?" said the young cook, who lowered her gaze demurely when her new guest regarded her longer than what was customary.

She tugged at her black ponytail nervously. How strange. He wasn't wearing his black armor like the other soldiers: his lean, toned arms were exposed as well as his boyishly handsome face. But she wasn't complaining; he was really, _really_ nice to look at after all. She wondered if he was single.

At the same time, Fayt leisurely scanned his target with his gaze and true to Cliff's words, noticed she was incredibly young; perhaps as young as that shy inn keeper at Kirlsa. And with any luck, hopefully just as shy too. Absently, he wondered if she even recognized him as the person her employers were actively hunting down. He was inclined to take her passivity as a good sign.

"Um… uh…" Fayt stuttered, but a quick peek at his anxious friends by the entrance fueled his resolve.

And so, Fayt, being the suave gentleman that he was, flashed her a sheepish grin - the kind that would make any girl's toes curl. How was it knights conversed again? Oh right.

"Pardon my intrusion, my lady. Did I frighten you?" he offered kindly. The cook shook her head frantically.

"O-Oh! Not at all!" she squeaked, blushing from head to toe. "Was there something you needed, sir…?"

"Leingod." His answer came as swift as his smile. "And no 'sir' needed; just Leingod's fine. I couldn't possibly ask more from such a lovely lady. That would be quite pretentious."

And to her greatest shock and pleasure, he reached out and took her fair, slender hand in his. She covered her mouth with her free hand in utter embarrassment. This... This couldn't be happening to her, could it? She'd read countless of romance stories in her spare time, but she never thought she'd get so lucky with a guy as dashing as this one.

"Would my lady be so kind as to give me her name?" Fayt inquired gently.

"M-Mayu," she half-sighed, half-giggled, "it's Mayu."

"Mayu," Fayt repeated, testing out her name on his tongue. "That's a beautiful name."

Unbeknownst to the happy pair, a certain Menodix crouched by the kitchen entrance, seething in rage. Now, Roger had never actually considered himself the jealous type, but this – oh _this_ was on a whole new level. Fayt was _supposed_ to grab the key and go, _not_ make goo-goo eyes at the stupid cook! She wasn't even _that_ pretty and her laughter was _obviously_ as real as her modesty, which wasn't really real at all. And what the heck kind of name was 'Mayu' anyway? It sounded like 'mayo' and - Wait, was she leading Fayt deeper into the kitchen?! Grrrrrrrrr!

"She's touchin' him… _"_ he ground out through clenched teeth. "Why is she touchin' him?!"

"Shut up, brat, you'll blow his cover!"

And Cliff shoved his second glove into Roger's mouth, leaving the poor humanoid to simmer in silence.

* * *

"So what brings you here, Sir – I mean, Leingod?"

Mayu handed Fayt a bowl of stew, which he accepted gratefully.

"Actually, I'm a new recruit," he explained smoothly, never once taking his eyes off the love-struck maiden. "I was supposed to report to Captain Nox, but I must've gotten lost – he winked – though I must confess, I found something better."

Mayu giggled at his little flirtation, blushing from head to toe.

"Mm… Actually – she sidled up next to him – Sir Albel isn't here. You might want to report to his second-in-command, Sir Shelby, instead. He's at the top floor of the facility."

Much to Mayu's disappointment, Fayt pulled away.

"How do I get up there?"

"There's an elevator on the first floor." She retrieved a key from her apron pocket. "Use this to access the room its in, and take it to the top."

"Oh… Uh… Thank you."

Fayt made to retrieve the key, but Mayu dangled it playfully out of his grasp. She hid it behind her back and stared at the confused male, batting her eyelashes coquettishly.

"I _may_ consider lending it to you, if you give me something in exchange."

"Like what?"

She pretended to ponder over the question for a while.

"How about… a kiss."

Cliff's eyes widened comically; Roger screamed through his gag; and Fayt blinked at her stupidly.

"A kiss?" he repeated, surprising himself with his calmness. Then he smirked and closed the distance between them faster than Mayu could even blink. He held her captive with his gaze. "Is that all?"

And then Fayt cupped her cheek, dipping his head to press a gentle kiss upon her soft, yielding lips. Mayu's eyelids fluttered shut, a contented sigh passing her lips as she felt him deepen the kiss, prodding at her entrance with his tongue. She granted him access with a needy moan, hands going up to wrap around his neck as she felt his own snake around her waist. After what felt like eternity, she felt him pull away, prying the key from her grasp. She couldn't put up much of a fight anyway – her brain had shut down and her knees felt incredibly weak.

Apris, that was the best kiss she ever had.

"I should get going," he murmured, a breath away from her lips.

"Will I see you later, Leingod?"

"That depends." Fayt pocketed the key and gave her a playful wink. "How eager are you?"

Chuckling from her squeak of embarrassment, he picked up the bowl of stew and turned to walk away. Mayu stared after him dreamily, waving until his figure disappeared from sight.

It was only after Fayt completely exited the kitchen when he dropped the act altogether. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand with a grimace. Oh well, there went his first kiss.

Cliff woof-whistled and clapped a hand against his back.

"Oho! Fayt, you sly dog! I never knew you had it in you."

Said male responded with a nervous chuckle. "Honestly, Cliff – he dropped the key into the Klausian's hands – I did it for you. Now let's go rescue Nel."

"Now you're talking!"

Fayt turned to face Roger, who had been strangely quiet for some time. He lowered himself to the boy's level and offered him the bowl of hot stew with a wide smile.

"Here Roger, I got this for you."

But to his complete surprise, the Menodix simply pouted and turned up his nose with an indignant huff.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

He stomped off angrily, leaving Fayt to stare after him in confusion, while Cliff hid a snicker behind his hand.

* * *

She felt her heart plummet into the deepest recesses of her caged soul, the pain throughout her body fading into a resigned numbness. Gasping and struggling upright – never mind the bruises and fractured bones left by her attackers – she fought to crawl from the terror that loomed in her wake. Every move felt like a thousand needles stabbing into her flesh; her lungs burned for air; but her chest protested with every significant intake of breath, ribs sore from past abuse. Her precious Falchions – the very weapons Cliff had given her – lay aside, broken and utterly useless. Nel gasped, her breaths coming out in sharp wheezes. Though she'd managed to knock out her fair share of soldiers, they just kept coming, and she didn't know how much more of this torture she could take. Above her, someone chuckled darkly and she screamed when they grasped her wrists and tugged her arms above her head, holding her upright. Her fractured shoulders protested against her captors' ministrations.

"How the proud have fallen."

A Glyphian soldier grasped her chin roughly and forced her gaze on him.

"Sir Shelby said you'd come to rescue the hostages. Is Her Majesty's spy so foolish as to walk into such an obvious trap?"

"What did you do with Tynave and Farleen!?" she cried, only to get backhanded by the first soldier.

"What did we do with them?" he repeated with feigned surprise. "Why, we gave your girls a good time – Nel felt a pair of hands ghost up her thighs from behind her – like what we plan to do with you."

Nel cried out in anger and struggled against her captors' hold, but a third soldier approached and she felt a hand greedily map out the expanse of her chest. Her cheeks burned in shame and mortification.

"No! Stop it! Let me go, _let me go!"_

The second soldier thrilled in her misery.

"Your precious subordinates were virgins, did you know that? But we took care of that." He leered down at her as he fervently stroked her milky thighs. "I wonder if all you temple maidens are the same..."

"Heh. With the way they dress, they're just asking for it."

"Who would've thought these followers of Apris were such lewd creatures?"

A hand crept up her skirt to stroke fervently at her nether regions. Nel choked back tears.

" _Stop it!"_

She didn't want this. Not from them.

Hands tore at her uniform and she resisted throughout, but to no avail. Her failure weighed heavily on her heart and spirit. Everywhere hurt… she was so tired…

"Stop…"

Soon, everything she had worn waist up were ripped to shreds. A pair of hands reached out to knead her bare breasts mercilessly, while another joined the fingers beneath her skirt to play with her clit. Nel bit down har on her lower lip, drawing blood. All she could think of was how she wished these hands weren't these filthy Glyphians', but another's. How, if she had to give up her maidenhood, it'd be for _him_ and no one else.. _._

Fingers rubbed eagerly at her entrance.

She wanted to die.

" _Stop, please!"_

A fist shot out and collided against the first soldier's jaw, the inhuman force of the punch sending the unsuspecting man flying straight into the opposite wall. A mad scramble soon occurred and Nel felt her captors release her as she sank to her knees. Her head pounded from the coagulation of sound about her - yells, ringing metal, explosions; all mingling into a single vacuum. She moved one arm up to shield her immodesty, while the other held her throbbing head.

" _ **I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! I'LL FUCKING KILL ALL OF YOU!"**_

That voice… it couldn't be.

'Cliff?'

"We'll take it from here! Go help Nel!"

'Fayt?'

Someone rushed towards her and their unmistakable childish voice sent a wave of conflicting emotions through her heart. No… he wasn't supposed to _be_ here! Not in a place surrounded by Glyphian soldiers. It was too dangerous; and yet…

"Oh God… H-Hold on, Nel, I got ya!"

A soft green light burst from Roger's palms and traveled through every part of her body, repairing broken bones and tissue muscle. The Aquarian gasped from both relief and surprise. Roger was _healing_ her.

"How...?"

He smiled in spite of the trauma he'd just witnessed.

"There'll always be an event in a person's life that makes 'em stronger," he echoed Nel's words from eight months ago and when she smiled, Roger knew that she finally understood.

"You'll be ok, Nel. Everythin's gonna be alright."

Back on the battlefield, one of the soldiers thrust his blade out, but Fayt managed to parry the blow with a well-timed strike. Momentarily stunned from the force of the counterattack, Fayt seized the chance and drew his sword back; bright blue energy coursed through the blade's length and he thrust it straight at the enemy's chest plate, shattering the armor at its center. Then he raised his sword over his head and brought it down on his opponent in a perfect arch. The blow struck the man's head and the soldier crumpled onto the ground with a defeated moan. Panting, he drew back and did a quick sweep of the area with his gaze.

Charred circles littered the floor from the effect of Roger's land mines – the Menodix had used up his last batch at the start of the fight in an attempt to end it as quick and clean as possible. Unfortunately, Nel had been in the way and as a result, his timing and aimed had been compromised. The plan had been pretty straightforward: jump in, toss in a few explosives, and knock out those left standing; an all out assault without any foreseeable complications. However, once those elevator doors opened and they bore witness to Nel's suffering, the Klausian had completely lost it and the plan was tossed out the window.

He couldn't blame Cliff though. The actions of the Black Brigade thoroughly disgusted him, and if he himself was seething in rage, he couldn't imagine the sheer magnitude of Cliff's fury. The look on the Klausian's face was practically cannibal. In all honesty, what he did to his opponent was nothing compared to the world of pain Cliff had put the other two soldiers through… and by the sounds of those punches, was probably still at it too.

And then, said man charged over and dragged the body away from Fayt's feet.

"I'll **_kill_** you bastards! _**All of you**_! Beat your faces in until your own _mothers_ don't even recognize you!"

Cliff tossed the body onto his pile of Glyphian trash and drew his arms apart. A powerful surge of gold energy gathered in his palms, the aura growing along with his resentment.

"You'll pay for what you did to Nel," he whispered darkly.

" _CLIFF, STOP!"_

Fayt threw himself at the blonde, grappling with his rage. "Stop it, Cliff, that's enough! You're above this! They're down. We won. _Nel's safe!_ "

The mere mention of the Aquarian's name seemed to have a soothing effect on him. Cliff visibly relaxed and stepped away from the bodies. What had he almost done? He gripped his forehead with his fingers in a pained sigh.

"Sorry you had to see that, kid."

Fayt shook his head, "That's not important now."

He led Cliff to where Nel and Roger sat, the Aquarian's arms wrapped protectively around her naked chest, shivering violently. Nel refused to look at any of them in the eye, especially Cliff as she hugged herself tighter, wanting nothing more than to curl into a small ball and disappear into the shadows. Roger shifted aside to let their oldest party member have some closure with her, understanding just as much as anyone in the group how much Nel meant to the big guy.

It took a while for Nel to finally sum up the courage to speak.

"Why did you come?"

It was a broken whisper, but within it carried the barest traces of hope. It sounded so unlike her; Fayt couldn't stand it.

"You can't possibly expect us to abandon you? Nel, I won't have you throwing your life away like that."

"I…"

"Give us a minute, will you?" Cliff interrupted, uncharacteristically solemn.

Not needing to be told twice, Fayt and Roger rose to their feet and left the couple alone to sort things out. Once they were out of earshot, Cliff immediately unzipped his top and Nel felt something drape across her shoulders. Seeing the blonde muscleman half-naked in front of her, it didn't take her long to do the math. Confused, she met Cliff's eyes, which shone with gentle warmth.

"Don't worry, I won't look."

And maintaining eye contact, he helped Nel slip into his top before zipping it up. Granted, it looked a little big on her, but at least it conserved her modesty.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Don't mention it." Cliff hesitated. "Did they…?"

"No. You guys came just in time."

He sighed in relief. Nel paused, biting her lip. There was just one thing she failed to understand.

"Why did you guys come here? If you headed to Aquois, you'd be safe."

Cliff blinked at her slowly, only to shake his head in exasperation. There she went again. It was so typical of her to place the safety of others before herself.

He reached out with a calloused hand and cupped her cheek to gaze deep into mesmerizing pools of violet. Damn, he didn't think he could get enough of those eyes.

"Well," he spoke in a hushed whisper, pressing his forehead against hers, "I didn't appreciate the fact that you left without saying goodbye."

Nel's heart melted.

"Cliff…"

"Can you stand?"

She nodded, slowly picking herself up. Roger's magic was doing a steady job healing her injuries, though she still felt a little weak from the process.

"Here, lean on me."

And that was how they approached their waiting party members: Nel's hands upon Cliff's chest, as the latter supported her with an arm around her waist. Fayt and Roger met them half-way.

"Nel, how ya doin'? Does it still hurt anywhere?"

"No, Roger, I'm fine. Thank you."

She smiled down at him. "I'm so proud of you. You've really grown into a fine young man."

"Huh, really? Still seems pretty tiny to me."

"You're just lucky Nel's here, ya moron! Or I'll rip yer eyes out!"

Nel shot Fayt an inquisitive stare, who simply shrugged the whole matter off with a pained sigh.

"They've been at it since Arias. You'll get used to it."

To the men's surprise, she let out an uncharacteristic giggle. It was the kind of laughter that fully reached her eyes.

"Thanks guys."

It was good to be home.

* * *

The party of four made their way towards the open arena with Cliff and Nel bringing up the rear. She pointed at two giant spokes in the distance, pitched upon the furthest wall.

"I was on my way to rescue them but got held back," she explained. "I heard the guards say they went without food or drink for three days, and they…" She trailed off, ashamed to speak any further.

The boys didn't need her to finish her sentence.

"Right. Let's get these girls out of here."

Fayt and Roger rushed towards the two captives, but stopped at the disturbing implications of the girls' sorry states. Both Tynave and Farleen were out cold, breaths shallow and sweat mattered their brows. Bruises and whip marks decorated their skin; their uniforms mused and sloppily thrown on – there were even tears at certain parts. Their faces were grimy from neglect and stained with what looked suspiciously to Fayt like… never mind.

"Roger, get up there and cut the ropes. Cliff, help me get Tynave and I'll grab Farleen."

"On it!/Sure thing."

The trio worked fast, while Nel brought each woman aside to heal their physical wounds – sadly, in her heart, she knew she couldn't save their spirit. Tynave and Farleen had suffered greatly under the cruel tyranny of Ariyglyph and she swore upon her last breath that she would make whomever it was responsible, pay dearly for their sins.

Suddenly, a loud clanking of approaching footsteps resounded about the arena, followed shortly by a condescending bark.

"Well, well, well… So it's _you_ clowns who've been disturbing the peaceful order of my facility."

Shelby stepped out onto the arena grounds and brandished his weapons. "Though I must say, it's very _considerate_ of all of you to gather at one place. It makes things much simpler."

"Peaceful? _Order?!"_ Fayt whirled around to face the newcomer, anger coursing through his veins, his disgust for Airyglyph reaching new heights. "You call _this_ – he gestured at the three disturbed Aquarians – order?! Who do you think you are?"

"Humph. I am Shelby – Lieutenant of the Black Brigade, soon to be Captain by the looks of things."

Roger frowned, pondering over the man's words. Lieutenant? So that means Albel wasn't here defending his post… but why?

Fayt glared resentfully at the presumptuous knight. Well, he _did_ look significantly more intimidating than the other soldiers they'd faced up against, not to mention a dual-wielder. Still, he believed that with Nel around, the four of them could probably take this guy on, no sweat. Though Nel was still weak from battle… and Roger didn't have any more explosives…

Shelby raised his mace and a burst of lightning exploded from the weapon's surface.

… ok, _maybe_ 'probably' wasn't the word he was looking for.

"Yo, fat and ugly."

Cliff stepped forward and cracked his neck, expression terrifying.

"I don't care if you're captain or queen of the fairies – but if you were the one who issued _those_ orders, I'm going to personally deliver you to your maker!"

"Be careful, Cliff," Nel warned, placing a hand upon his chest. "Shelby's the Black Brigade's second in command. They didn't leave him here for nothing."

"Well I don't care who he is." Fayt unsheathed his sword and summoned his flame. "I'm not letting him off the hook so easily after what he did to you!"

Shelby smirked and licked the edge of his axe.

"I'll start by killing the women and the child. Then, I'll deal with you men."

Fayt's stood protectively in front of Nel and Roger, eyes narrowed into a hateful glare.

"Over my dead body!" He ignited his sword. "Cliff, give me an opening!"

"Way ahead of you."

The Klausian charged towards Shelby and leaped into the air, before bringing his fists down onto the ground. The force of his hammer attack shook up the arena, splitting the ground and causing Shelby to lose his balance. In that split second, Fayt lunged his attack on the lieutenant, but the Glyphian was quick to react and crossed his mace and axe, blocking the blow. With a yell, he shoved Fayt back and covered the distance between them at lightning-fast speed, making a slash at Fayt's side.

"Fayt!"

The Earthling stumbled back in shock as his hand flew to his side – a rip in his shirt and a surface wound at his waist. Close call.

Shelby threw back his head with a laugh.

"Did you really think it would be so easy?"

"Sure. If ya keep yabberin' like that!"

Shelby stopped short and inclined his head. Roger brought his axe down upon the lieutenant with a snarl, but he defended himself with his own. However, the heat radiating off the Menodix's blade managed to melt and distort his weapon slightly, leaving an obvious dent on his battle axe. The little brat! Shelby growled and kicked the humanoid child away in annoyance. He raised his mace.

"I'll deal with _you_ first – "

"Think again!"

Fayt intercepted the attack from the side and delivered a hard kick to the man's stomach. Then he closed the distance by rushing Shelby with his sword in a powerful, upwards slash, which sent the man skidding across the broken stone floor. Fayt straightened up, eyes murderous.

"Touch him again, and I won't be so kind."

"Urgh…"

"Roger!" He was at the boy's side in a heartbeat. "Are you hurt?"

Roger grasped at his throbbing chest, struggling to his feet with the aid of his axe. He didn't know if he heard something crack, or he was just imagining things.

"I'm a real man; I can take it."

Shelby laughed scornfully as he rose to his own feet, eyes trained on the pair that stood a few paces away from him. So that's how it is… He raised his mace and a burst of lightning surged straight towards Fayt and Roger, striking them dead center on their backs. They screamed in agony, reduced to their knees; and all the more, Shelby continued with his torture.

"How's _this_? Can you still take it?" He smirked at them cruelly. "This will teach you to make a fool out of _Captain Shelby!"_

"Where you looking, gramps?"

Cliff snuck up behind the Glyphian and wrapped his arms around the man's waist. He raised Shelby off the ground.

"Alley-oop!"

And with an impressive flip born out of sheer strength and power, Cliff smashed the lieutenant's face and body into the dirt.

Fayt and Roger struggled to catch their breaths, but the Earthling wasn't doing so well. Earlier, he'd wrapped his arms around Roger and absorbed most of Shelby's lightning attack, which also dealt a considerable amount of damage to the flesh wound he'd received earlier. Now, a deep gash took its place, blood oozing out and staining the side of his white shirt a deep scarlet.

" _Ungh._ " Fayt grasped at his injury, biting back moans of pain. "Shit." Blood dyed his fingers.

Roger reached out to pry Fayt's bloodied fingers from the wound to assess the damage. His eyes darted about in panic: there was so much blood. Images of a dying Melt flashed through his mind, the cavern walls stained with so much red… No – he wasn't going to freeze up, wasn't going to let anyone die on him this time. Not Fayt. Especially not Fayt. _Never._

"Just breathe, Fayt. Breathe with me – one… two…"

Light gathered around their hands as Roger forced out every ounce of his energy and power to heal the young man, all the while whispering soothing reassurances in his ear. He hadn't healed anything this serious before, honestly wasn't sure of his capabilities, but seeing the brave swordsman upon his lap fighting for his life like that, he knew he just had to try, to give his all. With a blood-caked hand, he ran his fingers through Fayt's hair in what he hoped would be a comforting gesture as his magic worked to repair all the damaged muscles and arteries. No doubt the guy was undergoing serious pain, and frightened.

"Shh… you're real brave, Fayt… real brave… Eyes on me, ya hear?"

Nel watched the scene before her, gravely troubled. While Fayt lay injured with Roger tending to him, and Cliff going one-on-one with Shelby, she never felt more useless than she did now. These guys risked their lives to come rescue her and her subordinates, and now they were paying the price of her failure… _but no more._ She rose on shaky feet and stumbled forward.

"Nel, what are ya doing?!" Roger gasped. "You're not properly healed yet!"

She shook her head, eyes honing in on Shelby in fierce determination.

"No, but there's still a few tricks I have up my sleeve."

Roger had little choice but to let her go, his heart and mind still focused on Fayt. The wound was closing up excruciatingly slow...

'Need to stem the blood flow,' he thought and untied his shawl to press it firmly against the wound.

So distracted was he however, that he failed to register the error of his involuntary actions. Across the battleground, Shelby's eyes caught sight of the Menodix's fluffy tail, swishing about innocently in the air. So it _was_ true – the brat was a humanoid from the Sanmite Republic! Everyone knew this display of rebellion was bound to happen at some point. No doubt, Airyglyph could use this insurgence to their wartime advantage. He just didn't think that he'd be so lucky for the chance to be presented right under his nose.

"Out of my way, you fool!" Shelby struck Cliff with a chain of lightning. The Klausian gritted his teeth, but endured the pain. A ball of golden energy gathered in the palms of his hands, but Shelby noticed it, preempted his moves, and swung his axe to slice off the man's –

"Ice daggers!"

A blade of ice pierced through the air and struck the axe's blade, encasing the entire weapon in thick crystal. A second icicle hit, effectively shattering the entire axe into numerous unsalvageable pieces. Shelby whirled around in rage.

"Whore!"

Nel smirked.

"All right! Nel!"

"Did you really think it would be this easy?" She threw his words back at him.

"Yeah, Shelby." Fayt approached the Black Brigade lieutenant, sword in hand. The gash was gone. "What she said."

"End of the line, ya big lummox," Roger chimed next to him.

Cliff folded his arms. "Ready to meet your maker?"

The four of them closed in on the Glyphian, whose eyes darted about in panic. He was surrounded and clearly outnumbered. But he was Shelby, future and rightful Captain of the Black Brigade and he wasn't going down without a fight. He raised his mace, but Roger anticipated this.

"Whirling heat!"

The whip shot straight towards the weapon and Shelby's eyes glinted in anticipation.

'Got you, little vermin.'

He intercepted the whip with his other arm and pulled, yanking the Menodix right into his arms. Roger kicked and struggled, but it was no use: Shelby's grip was as unrelenting as a vice. His whip lay useless on the floor, along with his helm.

"Roger!" Fayt made to attack the Glyphian, but Shelby held his mace next to Roger's head and tsked.

"Uh-uh. One false move and I'll fry his brains."

Fayt backed away with a curse.

"Let him go, Shelby!" Nel screamed, but said man laughed in response.

"Do you take me as a fool?" he sneered. "This boy's a humanoid, and we all know how _valuable_ they are in such _tough_ times… However, I might be willing to make a deal – he nodded at Cliff and Fayt – you men in exchange for this boy's life."

The trio flinched from the proposal. Dead-end. However, Fayt surprised them all when he threw his sword aside and stepped forward. Nel held up her hand to stop him.

"I can't let you do this, Fayt."

He glared at her, expression pained. "What other choice do I have?"

"Kid, think about this for a sec – " Cliff snapped his mouth shut when those emerald eyes turned to regard him fiercely, coldly.

"I did."

"Don't do it, Fayt!" Roger cried out, desperate. "Ya can't give yourself up ta Airyglyph like that. T-Take the girls and leave – all of ya!"

"But Roger…"

"It's ok, Fayt. I'll be alright." The Menodix forced a smile. "A real man's gotta do what a real man's gotta do."

"I going to count to three and if no one steps forward, you can say bye-bye to your furry little friend."

Shelby flicked his wrist and lightning struck Roger, consuming his whole body in the throes of unbearable agony.

" _AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

"One..."

" _ **ROGER!"**_

"Two..."

Roger screamed to the point he felt his throat bleed. It hurt – _Oh God, it hurt._ Every part of his body felt like it was on fire. He wanted to die. He wanted it all to end... please make it end!

' _Someone… help…'_

Fayt, Cliff, and Nel watched on, helpless. A malicious grin pulled at Shelby's lips, his mouth and tongue moving to form the final word that would signal the end of the humanoid's pitiful existence. His grip on the mace's handle tightened.

"Th – "

A flash of purple zipped across the battlefield at inhuman speed, and before Shelby could complete his speech, something sliced through his neck, lobbing his head clean off. The group gazed at the horrific spectacle with gross fascination. What the – who the – _what the heck just happened?_ Fayt blinked rapidly as he struggled to make sense of the situation. Everything happened so fast… was it even human? He stared at Cliff and Nel from the corner of his eye, but judging by their open-mouth expressions, they were probably just as bewildered as he was.

Shelby's arms fell away, the body completely drained of life. Roger scrambled away from the corpse in panic, leaping into Fayt's protective embrace. He trembled violently, clinging onto the material of the swordsman's shirt and burying his face against Fayt's neck as he sobbed his heart out. The Menodix was deeply traumatized by the events that had unfolded that day, not to mention barely escaping death... So, Fayt did nothing except offer soothing words of comfort as he allowed Roger to cry openly against his chest, hushing him and planting a tender kiss against his hair. He didn't know what came over him to act so affectionately towards the boy, but at this moment nothing else mattered apart from Roger's personal comfort. He held onto him tighter.

"Thank God. Thank God you're safe..."

Cliff and Nel approached Shelby's corpse hesitantly, while Fayt, who was carrying Roger, held back for the boy's benefit.

"Who could've done this?" he asked, while Nel took it upon herself to inspect the decapitated head.

"Hmm… A clean and deep slice – the blade of a sword no doubt." She rose to her feet. "A professional with remarkable strength. You have to be to cut through bone and muscle like that."

Cliff breathed out uneasily. "Okaaaaaaay… starting to get a little creepy now."

"Humph. Pitiful."

The group stiffened and immediately got into their respective battle stances, each one surveying their side of the arena. Nothing. Strange... they _all_ couldn't have imagined that _same_ voice, could they?

"Up here, fools."

A young man in a purple, close-fitting military outfit rose from his crouch upon the arena's high walls. In one hand, he grasped a slender katana, its blade stained and dripping with blood. A gauntlet encased the entirety of his left arm, its claws glinting maliciously under the light of the afternoon sun; his long black-and-blonde hair reached his ankles in a pair of bound rat-tails. The man turned to regard them with cool indifference and in spite his youth (he looked to be around Nel's age), radiated a dark and dangerous aura – one that made the hairs at the back of everyone's necks stand on end.

Vermillion eyes scanned the scene, took in the sorry sight of the battle-worn party of four and the unconscious maidens at the far back. Was this _supposed_ to be a trap erected by that wretched Shelby? How _miserable_. How crude. Clearly that bootlicking blockhead didn't know a good plan even if it stared him in the face.

He smelt insubordination.

"So this is what Shelby was up to… how pathetic. That maggot was always strutting, preening his feathers... I wonder why I didn't do this sooner."

Nel stepped back in caution, recognition shining in her eyes. That icy gaze, unflinching predisposition towards violence, that speed; that day Arias was attacked…

"That gauntlet… You're Albel Nox, aren't you?"

He chuckled cruelly. "So, you've heard of me."

Cliff stiffened. Wasn't this the guy that led the attack on Arias, _and_ the commander of the Aquaria-invasion? But then, didn't he just murder his own subordinate?! What the hell was going on?!

Fayt glared daggers at the cocky swordsman.

"I don't care who the hell you are, but for what you ordered your men to do to Tynave, Farleen, Nel, _and_ Roger – you're just asking for a smack down!"

Albel leaned forward to sneer down at him in disdain.

"Bah, the maggot talks big." He glanced at Shelby's corpse and smirked.

"Humph. You might have some potential, but you're no match for me. I'm not interested in fighting a bunch of tired fools. Easy wins have never been my style. And unlike my disgraceful colleagues, I take no pleasure in trouncing weaklings – especially one who wields a blade as sloppily as you."

"You want to come down here and say that to my face?!"

The sword-master drew back in displeasure, as if Fayt was something particularly revolting to look at.

"And to correct your assumptions, worm, I had no part in whatever transpired in this building. That maggot acted on his own terms. I would have _never_ consented such a thing to occur in my absence."

"So, you killed your own lieutenant?" Nel fixed him with a suspicious glare. "That's pretty noble for a guy like you."

"Don't get me wrong – I just reasserted my role as commander. Besides, taking hostages isn't the way I do business."

'At least this guy has _some_ honor,' thought Fayt grumpily. But he still didn't appreciate that jibe earlier, and as much as he hated Shelby for threatening Roger, he was still extremely disconcerted over the man's death by the hands of his own boss.

Just then, he felt Roger shift in his arms. The Menodix turned to face the aloof Black Brigade Captain, sniffing and blinking away tears. He'd spent one full day dodging the clutches of the notoriously wicked wartime commander; yet it was this very man he had to thank for saving his life. Now, Roger wasn't the most discerning person in the world, but humanoids had their 'sixth sense' and his right now was screaming at him that there was more to Albel's actions than what met the eye. He'd heard countless of stories, of people whispering the swordsman's name in fear – like a monster that parents told their children about at night – but a small, hopeful part of him believed otherwise. There was something tucked beneath the Captain's stone-cold gaze. Was Albel afraid of something? Keeping secrets? He'd _almost_ smiled at him in Peterny, so the guy couldn't be all bad…

"Abel?"

Roger found himself calling out against his better judgment. To his – to everyone's – great surprise, Albel actually did pause to give him all his attention.

Despite the stoic expression on his face and his cool demeanor, hidden deep within the wicked captain's heart was an inexplicable sadness. Albel was looking at that boy from the central plaza, the same boy with those wide, inquisitive eyes shining with mischief. But instead of a red shawl over his head and an apron, a pair of furry ears and bushy tail stood in their place.

'So, he's really a humanoid.'

However, that thought provided no comfort or solace to him, which made him mad and painfully confused. Why wasn't he slaughtering these people and stealing away with the humanoid? Wasn't this what he'd been after since the beginning? Airyglyph's victory – his redemption, was literally within his grasp… and yet, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He had planned to use Roger in his conquest, but he realized to his deepest horror that he couldn't do it anymore.

Something had changed.

"Albel, thanks." Roger beamed up at him. "Thanks fer savin' my life."

This was madness.

"Little fool."

Albel tossed down something and Roger caught it in his hands. Curiously, he parted his fingers, only to let out a quiet gasp. It was a rose – the same rose he'd given to the swordsman in Peterny. It was in full bloom.

As Cliff and Nel stood around confused and Fayt glared resentfully at the blossom, Albel spared one last pained glance at the innocent boy held protectively in the other swordsman's arms. He felt a slight pang in his chest, but ignored it as he turned his back to the group, voice cold.

"Leave, before I change my mind. This is my only warning."

Not wanting to question his strange behavior, the party fled the scene, leaving Albel to his thoughts. Once the sound of footsteps receded into nothingness, he leaped off his post and approached the corpse of his late-lieutenant, removing his gauntlet in the process. Fair skin met his gaze instead of the sight of white bandages he had grown accustomed to over the years – he saw no need for them any longer when his arm ceased hurting. What replaced raw, decayed flesh was a normal arm as good as new, and a red dragon tattoo that snaked around the length of the appendage. He'd seen this mark countless of times - all dragon knights who passed the _Ascension of the Flame_ ceremony bore this mark as a sign of honor and proof. But he had failed, so why did he have it now?

To add to his confusion, this new revelation came with a whole new problem: his arm barely hurt anymore, but when it did, it was a pain far more excruciating than anything he had endured over the past nine years. The first time he felt it, was shortly after he arrived at the facility. In fact, he didn't actually have the intention to come to this floor, didn't even _know_ where Shelby was, but the pain in his arm was _so bad_ that it clouded his mind and before he knew it, he was dashing towards the maggot to deliver the killing blow. The only thing he registered, the only thing he _heard_ , was the sound of Roger's screams and his soft voice pleading for help…

Albel brought a hand up to his forehead, feeling a headache coming along.

"Bah, what nonsense."

He stared at the corpse, the blood on the ground, and the decapitated head that gazed at him in wide-eyed horror. The longer Albel stared into those lifeless eyes, the more he felt them mock him, jeer at him for the obvious repurcussions for his traitorous actions. He'd killed his own subordinate, a fellow Glyphian, and he didn't know why.

"I must be out of my mind."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw yeah! Lots of action in this chapter and I totally went dark with it... sorry not sorry. This update was long and was actually longer, but I had to cut out two scenes because I was already driving myself crazy. For you Fayt/Roger shippers, I hope you liked the little scenes I slipped in. Albel is a complicated man and I realize he can't fully step up his game like Fayt can, so he kinda just ding-dongs back and forth. Thanks for the kudos!


	10. Pride, Passion, Greed

"Aquaria's bases are here, here, and here." Vox indicated at the respective points on the map on the conference table. "Albel will lead the Black Brigade in our final assault of Arias – he slid a counter across the map – and while Aquaria's main battalion has their hands full, I'll lead my dragon knights overhead to take Peterny."

At the head of the table, Arzei rested his chin on his fingers, scrutinizing the map and its pieces. Since their invasion of Aquaria's border town, they had given the opposing kingdom adequate opportunity to surrender to Glyphian rule. Unfortunately, those Aquarians were a stubborn bunch, so it was time for Airyglyph to begin its next phase.

Airyglyph's king hummed in contemplation before raising his head to regard the Dragon Brigade Captain.

"Do you foresee any complications regarding Peterny, Vox? That town _is_ the center of commerce between the Sanmite Republic and Aquois after all."

Duke Vox shook his head. "With all due respect, your majesty, I believe your worries are unfounded. As you know, those peace-loving vermin have withdrawn into their holes. Without Sanmite forces at Peterny's defense, my men should defeat those Aquarian scum within a few hours."

"Indeed." Arzei relaxed, but the look on his face was far from pleased. "And does Albel know this?"

On cue, both pairs of eyes shifted to assess the oldest figure in the room, silent this whole time. Count Woltar had his eyes closed with his hands set upon the table, fingers laced, the contemplative frown across his brow being the only indication of his attentiveness. When it became apparent that he could not avoid the matter any longer, he released a loud and weary sigh.

"I'm afraid I have not heard a word from Albel for three days. I dispatched a missive, but have yet to receive any reply. No one has seen him – not even his own brigade."

At Arzei and Vox's twin glares of disapproval, Woltar bowed his head in shame. Goodness, that boy would be the death of him.

"Woltar, it would do you good to control your boy," admonished Arzei, his own patience towards the young captain wearing thin. "Especially during such crucial times. The moment I require my wartime commander's input and he disappears on me. What am I to think?"

"My sincerest apologies, my lord." Woltar spoke in all honesty. "But you and I both know that that's not possible."

Vox scoffed at the old advisor's tired, pitiful response. This wasn't the first time Glou's boy ran off on personal errands without informing anyone on his whereabouts, but never for such an extended duration. Though Albel's untimely absence in the heat of the Aquaria-invasion should have evoked a reasonable amount of concern, the Dragon Brigade Captain harbored not an ounce of compassion towards the young swordsman. In fact, Albel's removal would only mean that _he_ , Duke Vox, would assume the position as wartime commander in his place – a role that should have been his; was rightfully his.

Everyone knew that his majesty had a soft spot for Glou's boy, saw the man himself in Albel, and granted him the highest honor out of homage. But it was becoming increasingly clear, even to Arzei himself, that Albel was unable to and could never uphold his father's legacy and spirit.

"We'll speak about this later, Woltar," said Arzei, before returning his attention to the map. "All right, back to the issue at hand: Peterny houses a number of my people amongst its population. Vox, I would like to discuss your approach to minimalize –"

"Your Majesty, my lords, Sir Shelby is dead! The hostages have escaped!"

A Black Brigade soldier burst through the meeting room doors, looking worse for wear. Vox stared at him in open resentment.

"Watch your tone, fool. You're in the presence of the king!"

"It's alright, Vox." Arzei stopped him with a raise of his hand. He then looked to the knight patiently. "Proceed, soldier. What is this about Sir Shelby's death?"

"Yes, your majesty." The soldier saluted. "The Crimson Blade spy came to rescue the hostages as expected, but what we didn't expect was the two Greeton engineers coming to her aid as well."

"So they _are_ citizens of Greeton, as I anticipated," remarked Woltar; but he didn't like what this was insinuating.

Did that mean that two members of the technological superpower were siding with Aquaria? That didn't spell anything good for Airyglyph if their wartime efforts were to dally. It seemed that things have shifted and it was now a race of who conquered whom first.

"I'm assuming they did away with Shelby as a result?" But to the king's astonishment, the soldier shook his head.

"If only that had been the case, my king…"

"Enough prevaricating! You're obstructing important wartime discussions." Vox raised his voice, pointing to the door. "Deliver your report and leave."

"Sir!" The soldier lowered himself to his knees. "They crippled the entire Black Brigade - its soldiers are all in the infirmary; I came as soon as I gained consciousness. However, for all their skill, they didn't slay our lieutenant."

A thick blanket of silence enveloped the meeting room as Arzei, Woltar, and Vox processed the news with growing trepidation. An entire brigade compromised preceding their upcoming invasion… how was this even possible? Who _were_ these people?

"Then _who_ did it _?_ "

The soldier hesitated, lowering his gaze in regret.

"S-Sir Albel, my lords. He beheaded our lieutenant and let them go."

Vox cursed; Arzei shut his eyes in disappointment; and Woltar laced his fingers so tightly his hands trembled from the force. So this was what Albel had been up to. This was the reason he'd been increasingly negligent of his duties to the kingdom.

"One more thing, my lords." The soldier held up a peculiar-looking brass helm – it had a spike on top and a pair of glass pieces fitted on its front like a pair of angry eyes. "We found this in the Kirlsa Training Facility. It belonged to the humanoid that was with the engineers."

They gasped; all these updates were extremely unsettling. None knew what to make of it. It seemed that their planning for the Aquaria-invasion had to be put on hold until they could sort everything out. Greeton engineers _and_ a humanoid up in arms with Aquaria? This recent discovery was a game-changer, but not at all in their kingdom's favor. Least to say, Airyglyph had been painfully compromised.

The soldier was dismissed and Airyglyph's ruler assessed his trusted three – now two – with his solemn gaze. He was waiting for the old count to say something, but Woltar was reluctant to take the bait. Vox folded his arms and leaned against his chair with a scoff.

"Humph. It appears we have a traitor in our ranks – the highest, if I might stress."

Woltar shook his head sadly. "How… How could this have happened? Albel would never…"

"Shelby is dead, our Heavy Calvary is down, and Aquaria has the upper hand." Vox listed with growing impatience. "Woltar, since it's obvious you're unable to control that boy of yours, we will let the hands of justice do it for you."

Arzei nodded his head gravely. "Vox speaks the truth. I'm sorry old friend, but I cannot allow a traitor to continue as commander, much less freely roam the streets! I am issuing an order for Albel Nox's arrest."

While the smug grin on Vox's face would have tempted some form of verbal reprimand from the Storm Brigade Captain during any normal circumstances, Woltar found himself at the mercy of his king. He didn't wish to believe a word about Albel's treachery, but what did he have to show for the man's innocence? Albel was already at an obvious disadvantage from the start, and with his recent reckless candor, he had everything against himself at this point. He couldn't defend the man any more than Albel himself wished to be defended; and so, Woltar gave in with a quiet sigh, head bowed in submission.

"It seems Arias and Peterny will have to wait," said Arzei as he faced his uncle and presumably the new commander of the Aquaria-invasion. "How do you propose we move forward without a heavy cavalry?"

"I don't think you need to worry about that, my lord." Vox smirked, surveying the helm in his hands. "The Sanmite Republic's Winged Cavalry and Elementalists would make a most fitting replacement."

"Vox…" Woltar trailed off warily. "The humanoids are practicing a policy of isolation. What are you suggesting?"

"Old man, do you know whose helm this is?" Vox all but shoved said object before Woltar's doubtful gaze. "I met its original owner during the three-way Peace Conference – chieftain of Surferio, Prime Minister of the Sanmite Republic, and ex-commander of the Sanmite militia."

"Sir Aznor Huxley?" said Arzei with a curious frown. " _He_ broke the terms of the isolation policy and is siding with the Aquarians?"

"Not Aznor, your majesty," Vox explained, "but his heir. Aznor handed his helm down to his only child and son. The boy always had close and friendly ties with Aquaria. He must have slipped out."

"And what do you plan to do with this helm, Vox?" Came Woltar's nervous question.

Vox chuckled darkly and held up the helm in triumph like how one would a trophy.

"Why, return it of course." The smirk on his face was positively feral. "After all, I'm sure Aznor and his people miss their little prince very, very much."

* * *

In the darkness of the bedroom, a figure stirred beneath the covers. Night had fallen and the only slivers of light were moonbeams, which shone through the glass window. A hand slowly reached up towards the ceiling, only to fall to massage their forehead when they felt the beginnings of a headache.

"Nngh… Where…" Nel groaned as she slowly came to.

It took her a while to orientate herself, but she finally figured out that she was safely nestled in her bedroom in the Runological Headquarters. The afternoon's events caught up to her consciousness: the Kirlsa Training Facility, the battle with Shelby, rescuing Tynave and Farleen… she paused, trembling. She remembered handing the poor women to the healers as soon as they arrived back at Arias, and had only allowed herself to be treated after she was certain they were all right. Though, 'all right' was subjective – rape was the most tragic thing that could befall any woman, and she wasn't sure if even her two strongest subordinates could recover from that.

Unconsciously, her hand moved to rest over her womb. The memory of Cliff, Fayt, and Roger coming to her timely rescue flashed through her mind. She had been incredibly lucky.

"Hey, are you just going to stare into space all night, or are you going to say 'hi'?"

"Cliff?" She gave a start and turned to the source of that voice. Had she been so distracted that she failed to notice the man's presence?

"Glad you're finally awake."

Despite the darkness, she could tell he was smiling as he spoke.

"How long have I been asleep?" She slowly sat up, only to realize she wore nothing save her bindings around her chest. Flushing, she quickly lay back down as she covered herself, mortified. Thankfully, Cliff said nothing.

"About three, four hours," he answered in his usual gruff manner. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit by a wagon."

They both chuckled at that, Nel smiling sadly to herself.

"To be honest, I'm glad you're here, Cliff."

Her forwardness caused him to blush. "Well, from one mission-type to another, let's just say I see it as a _personal_ mission to make sure you're ok."

That did it. Nel finally felt the last bits of her resolve crumble as she brought up her hands, sobbing uncontrollably into them. She let all her anger, resentment, and fear she'd kept bottled up inside her since the start of the war, pour out of her soul through her tears. Cliff jumped to his feet and was by her bed in a heartbeat.

"H-Hey – don't cry. Did I say something wrong?" He made to touch her shoulder, but stopped himself, worried he'd spook Nel more than she already was. "I'm sorry – "

"No, you didn't say anything wrong," she interrupted, furiously wiping at her tears. But they wouldn't stop flowing, so she resolved to bury her face in her hands.

"I-I'm just g-glad you're here… that you're s-still… here…"

Nel was shaking like a leaf, her words coming out in stutters as she fought to breathe through her tears.

"I couldn't p-protect them… I failed them!" She clenched her teeth. "I felt their h-hands… e-everywhere… T-Touching everything… They were laughing and I was so… _humiliated_ …"

By then, their eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Cliff continued to look at the broken Aquarian, expression pained.

"But the whole time, instead of my m-mission… all I could think about was how dirty I felt, and how you'd never want to look at me again." The dam broke and Nel felt her entire being collapse as she screamed into the night. " _I'm disgusting!"_

Just then, she felt a large hand upon her head and she gasped. Cliff knelt by her side and stroked her hair with tender care. He whispered into her ear.

"Shh… Easy there, easy…" He kept his voice low and touch gentle. "You're safe now and no one hates you. I'd be damned if anything were to happen to you, Nel."

Nel lowered her gaze, ashamed. "You must think me pathetic. How could someone as weak as myself guide you safely to Aquois?"

"I can think of no other person more perfect for the job." Cliff responded, letting his hand fall to wipe at Nel's tear stained cheeks. "Want to know what I think?"

Nel blinked up at him curiously and he flashed her a charming grin.

"I think you're the strongest, bravest, most beautiful, and possibly the craziest woman I've ever met. And believe me, I've met plenty; but none of them come close to you."

She couldn't hide the wide smile on her lips, and seeing that his job was done, Cliff got up and dusted the front of his pants. After a few parting words, he made to leave through the door, but his hand paused over the knob when Nel called out to him.

"Cliff?" Her eyes avoided his with uncharacteristic shyness. "Could you stay? At least, just this one night?"

It was clear that Nel was still badly shaken from the day's events. Now, Cliff of all people normally didn't mind performing such a request, especially for a woman as hot as this one. But Nel was different from the rest. He wanted to uphold her respect.

"Would it… uh… be proper?" he stumbled over his words.

Nel hid a smirk behind the covers. "I would have thought propriety to be the least of your concerns."

"Cheeky girl."

He returned to her side and settled on the extra bed – the one he'd been sitting on as he watched over Nel for the past few hours.

"Alright. Get more rest. Clair said it's going to be a long day tomorrow."

"Cliff?"

"Huh?"

Nel hesitated, tugging at the cotton of the bed sheets. "Back at the facility… would you have really killed those soldiers if Fayt hadn't stopped you?"

"Make no mistake."

"But why?"

She heard Cliff's bed creak before she felt the side of her mattress sink a little from the sudden weight. The Klausian sat next to where she lay and unable to control himself, reached down to grasp her chin, inclining her gaze to meet his. He chuckled nervously and at that moment, Nel forgot how to breathe.

"Seriously, I've never been lost for words before… but when it comes to you, I'm tied."

Nel's heart fluttered in her chest, but she forced herself to push her happiness aside. A new surge of fear gripped her: she couldn't allow herself to fall prey to this man's charms. This was her mission – to bring Fayt and Cliff safely to the royal city – and that was all. No attachments, no looking back. She would only be fooling herself if she believed that Cliff could possibly return her feelings. He'd help (or choose not to help), eventually leave for his own mission, and what then? Would he even remember her? Would he come back? She herself had her own duties to the Queen. Would a relationship with this man from Greeton bear its costs?

'Of course it would,' she thought to herself. However, be it it her reckless character or her heart talking, she realized she was willing to take the risk. She liked him, _really_ liked him. And judging by the passion swimming in Cliff's cerulean eyes, she knew, just knew, that he felt the same way.

Nel pushed herself off the bed, uncaring of her indecent state of dress as she gazed up at him through half-lidded eyes. Her rose-red lips were but a breath away from his.

"Then don't speak. Show me."

She felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her bare shoulders as Cliff pulled her towards him, capturing her lips in a burning kiss.

* * *

_'Huh? Where am I?'_

_Roger wandered around the great cavern; its towering walls and immeasurably high ceilings making him feel even smaller than usual. He felt like an ant trapped in a giant's home. Gigantic torches lined his surroundings, each one standing taller than an average human; indiscernible ruins were inscribed into the walls and the stone floor beneath his feet. The place was sweltering and he felt beads of perspiration trickle down the sides of his face. Deeper and deeper in Roger walked until the passage way opened out into an even greater arena._

_Something growled close to his ear and he squeaked in fright. He jumped and whirled around, only to feel his insides clench when he literally came nose-to-nose with a slumbering dragon._

_"Yikes!" He threw himself back, but soon found out that the entire place was filled with dragons – various species, both sleeping and awake. Strangely, none of the dragons seemed to notice him as they breezed past without a care in the world. Still, it did little to calm the Menodix's racing heart._

_'Wha… What is this place?'_

_Suddenly, the roars and jubilant cheers of people pulled his attention. Roger scrambled to his feet and approached the source of the clamor. A large group of armored soldiers stood around the vicinity, each one pumping their fists into the air as they chanted "Nox! Nox! Nox!" over and over. Roger squeezed his way to the front and gapped at the scene that lay before him: a gigantic brass-colored, winged dragon stood in the center of the arena – it was so massive that a regular upstanding human only reached half of its foot's height – and standing tall and confident before it, was a teenage boy with long, black-and-blonde hair. His vermillion eyes flashed in excitement._

_Roger let out a shuddering breath. Despite the boyish features and mischievous disposition, there was no denying it - this boy was Albel Nox, a younger version of him at any rate. It was both unsettling and pleasing to see him in such high spirits instead of the aloof and grumpy detachment him and the world were so used to seeing._

_"Who is it that dares stand before Crosell, King of the Dragons?"_

_Roger's tail stood on end. Woah – that dragon just talked!_

_"It is I – Albel, son of Glou Nox." The young Albel spoke up clearly and confidently._

_The cheers around him reached a deafening crescendo. The dragon, Crosell, hummed in appreciation, steam rising from its nostrils._

_"An heir of the Nox family – a worthy dragon knight." The Marquis spread its great wings, a loud 'boom' resonating about the cavern. "Your father, and your father's father, and his father before him, have forged a bond with this Crosell. Are you here to tame my spirit, boy?"_

_Albel smirked as he flexed his fingers in anticipation._

_"Give me all you got, Crosell! I'm ready."_

_A low rumble resonated from Crosell's throat._

_"To succeed is to bond with my spirit; my power will be yours. To fail is to die."_

_"I'm aware of those odds," replied Albel proudly._

_"Then let us commence your ascension."_

_The dragon lowered itself into a crouch and a golden aura enveloped its body. Then, it shot out towards the young Albel, coming into direct contact with the teenager's own red aura in the space between them. The auras clashed; each party had their eyes shut, focusing as they poured out their spirits to communicate with the other._

_Suddenly, violent whispers transpired across the watchful crowd: Albel was shaking; he appeared to be in pain. Crosell's eyes shot open and he roared in outrage._

_" **Pitiful, insignificant fool! There is darkness in your cold, arrogant heart. For your pride, you shall burn where you stand!"**_

_And to Roger's horror, he watched as a man with the same hair and eyes as Albel, rush out to stand in the line of fire. The flames consumed the man and he heard Albel let out a heart-wrenching scream._

_"FATHER!"_

_And then, the scene faded. The crowd of people and dragons disappeared; the cavern and Crosell vanished; and all that remained in the pitch-blackness was a sobbing young Albel nursing his burnt arm, all alone. Just like that time in Peterny, Roger found himself reaching out to him, drawn by an inexplicable desire to care for the broken knight. His fingers brushed against the skin of Albel's arm and the boy gasped, withdrawing in fright._

_"Who… Who are you?!"_

_Roger stuttered dumbly. "Uh… I… Uh…"_

_And so he decided to let actions do the talking for him as he reached out to touch the burnt appendage gently. A green glow spread from his fingers onto the wound and Roger couldn't help but experience an uncanny sense of déjà vu._

_"It's gonna be ok, Albel," he whispered, gazing up into tearful vermillion eyes. "I'm here… I gotcha."_

_Then something unexpected happened: Albel clung onto the Menodix for dear life, sobbing uncontrollably. Roger allowed the embrace and patted him on the back._

_"It's ok, Albel. It's gonna be ok." He felt the boy mumble against his shoulder._

_"… anyone suffer because of me again."_

_He frowned and tried to get a good luck at the teen. "Albel, what are ya – "_

_Roger jerked when he felt an unbearable pain rip through his stomach. When he pulled away, he realized to his horror, that he'd been stabbed in the gut. Blood soaked through the material of his shirt and he grasped at his wound in panic. He struggled to breathe, but it hurt so badly and his vision was starting to fade in and out. He coughed, his fear mounting when he realized he'd coughed out a generous amount of blood – his own blood, blood that was already pooling beneath his knees. Weakly, he lifted his gaze and found himself staring into wide, fearful pools of vermillion._

_The young Albel dropped his katana in shock after fully processing the horror he just committed._

_"I… I'm sorry…"_

_Roger's eyes began to droop shut as more blood flowed from his wound. The image of a young Albel faded to be replaced with the Glyphian captain of today._

_"I'm sorry! Roger – No! Please!"_

* * *

"Guh!" Roger shot awake, hand immediately flying to his stomach. No wound. He sighed in relief.

"A dream?" he wondered to himself out loud. But it felt so real…

Scenes from his nighttime vision rushed through his mind in vivid clarity - the dragons, the fire, all that pain… was it a memory? It certainly wasn't his own… Maybe he went overboard with dinner again. He knew five rounds of chicken and potato stew would eventually come back to haunt him.

Fayt's device lay open in front of him. He must have fallen asleep while repairing it. On the bedside table was a small vase filled with water, which he used to hold Albel's rose; it at him innocently. Roger sat up with a loud yawn as he brought his arms up in a stretch. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Mmn… what time is it?"

A quick glance out the window indicated that it was late at night, and by the looks of the melting candle on the table, probably one to two hours after supper. Roger gazed at the empty bed across the room forlornly, taking in its neatly made bedspread and fluffed pillow – untouched.

As soon as they had arrived back in Arias after the events at the Kirlsa Training Facility, Fayt became strangely withdrawn and had been actively avoiding him ever since. During dinner, the guy had simply inhaled his food and left just as quickly – so quickly, that Roger never even got the chance to get more than a "Are ya gonna eat that?" in, before Fayt pushed his chair back and left with the food tray. He didn't even come in for supper.

Roger had been so excited to invite the young engineer into his room to work on the device like they did the previous night, eager for a distraction from the traumas of the day. But when he found Fayt training out on the streets, the swordsman had simply rejected his offer with cool indifference and went back to his ministrations. Least to say, he hadn't been able to get another word in except a quiet "Never mind."

He'd gone back to his room after that. Nel was asleep, recuperating from her injuries and Cliff was with her, so that didn't leave the Menodix with many options for company. Plus he figured it was best to leave the pair alone. Nel needed her rest and he doubted he'd be able to stay quiet with that big moron in the room.

Deciding to get some proper shut-eye (they were bound for Peterny the next day), he got on his knees and crawled across the mattress to blow out the candle by the windowsill. He stopped short however, when he spotted a familiar figure out on the dark streets. Fayt was still training at the same spot by the big oak tree; the young man had removed his shirt and placed it neatly upon the tree's roots. Sweat glistened across his broad chest, down his finely chiseled abdomen, and trickled suggestively past the waistband of his pants.

Roger felt his throat go dry. He never realized how well-built Fayt was – his outfit was definitely on the conservative side compared to Albel's – and coupled with his fluid and graceful movements with the sword, Roger felt like he was looking at a totally different person. The kind, sweet, and geeky swordsman was gone and in his place, stood a fierce and deadly warrior. Granted, he'd seen this side of Fayt at the facility, but there was just something more compelling about him now when left to his own devices, in the embrace of shadows.

As if sensing he was being watched, Fayt paused in his ministrations and inclined his gaze to the last and only lit window in the mansion. For the briefest moment, their eyes met, but before Roger could unlatch the window and call out to him, Fayt shot him an icy glare and turned away, returning to his training. Roger's ears drooped sadly, his tail sinking onto the mattress.

"What did I do wrong?"

He blew out the candle and curled into bed, already missing the comforting presence of the young swordsman who would fill up the empty bed next to him.

* * *

'Woah! Alternate reality here…'

As soon as he stepped through Peterny's gates, Fayt was blown away by the town's lively atmosphere, the place and its people practically bursting with color. The modern, fashionable settlement was abuzz with activity, vendors and patrons from all walks of life exchanging morning greetings and tossing out attractive bargains. A young lady promoted her café over the sea of noise; a middle-aged farmer wheeled his cart of vegetables through the plaza; a group of old ladies squabbled and fought over the largest catch of the day from a nervous fish monger. The sights were endless. Fayt thought he'd go through the entire day here and still wouldn't be able to finish seeing it all.

"This place is huge!" Cliff commented, doing a sweep of the plaza with his gaze.

"Yeah, not to mention it has a totally different feel to it from Arias." Fayt quickly stepped out of the way of a merchant selling honey. "It's like I just walked into an alternate dimension!"

Nel chuckled at their innocence, hiding a smile behind her scarf.

"That's because Peterny's closer to the sacred royal city of Aquois."

"Yup! Plus it's near Sanmite Republic borders." Roger happily added his own two fol. "It's only natural this town's so packed with food, and people, and did I say food?"

"And how do you know so much, fur ball?"

"Cuz I _live_ near here, ya dummy!"

"You mean before you escaped from your cage and drove everyone crazy?"

"Grrr! Why I oughta – "

Nel moved in-between them with an exasperated sigh. Fayt wasn't kidding when he said these two could really go at it, and go at it they did – crossing Palmira Plains hadn't been as peaceful an affair as she hoped it to be. The guards at the gates had heard them coming before they even saw them.

"I have to meet an informant and grab some new equipment," she explained to the boys, her broken Falchions long-discarded. "Feel free to stock up on supplies; do what you will until you're ready to check in."

Fayt titled his head curiously. "Check in?"

Nel pointed westward from where they stood.

"Clair has helped book two rooms at the _Front Door_ Inn. I must apologise for the sudden confusion, but I have many things to attend to and I fear it might drag on till evening."

Fayt smiled in relief. Oh, that wasn't so bad. Honestly, Nel's words brought more relief than inconvenience, especially since it meant he had more time to think about that weapon of theirs. Though, he admitted he was already leaning more to the 'helping' side.

One thing had become painfully clear to him now: he _hated_ Airyglyph – for the destruction of Arias, for what they did to Tynave and Farleen, what they almost did to Nel, how they almost killed Roger… and especially that _irritating_ , _cocky_ Black Brigade Captain. Whenever he closed his eyes, he still saw Albel's infuriating smirk, heard his taunting voice, recalled the fondness in his eyes when he'd looked at _his Roger;_ and it made him _so bloody mad_ he wanted to punch the guy's face in so he wouldn't have to stare at it ever again. So yes, he had every reason to dislike Airyglyph and give that nation a direct ticket to hell. Totally rational and unbiased to the core.

'What's stopping you then?' a voice nagged at his subconscious, but Fayt already knew the answer. The very thing – correction, the very _person_ he wished to protect from Airyglyph's cruelty, was also the person who stood in his way. Roger had talked about peace, about a time when the three nations were once Aquor, but it was nothing more than a naïve fantasy.

He had studied centuries of Earth and intergalactic history, and he never came across any records of peace being achieved without destruction as its catalyst. Nel was right: Airyglyph was too ruthless and the only way for any chance at peace would be a quick end to this war; and somehow, he believed Aquaria's victory would result in a more favorable, diplomatic outcome compared to Airyglyph's tyranny. He had experienced those whips, saw their own people's suffering, and witnessed all sides of their brutality first-hand.

So what was stopping him, you ask? Well, plain and simple, it was his fondness for the Menodix, his newfound Achilles heel. Roger shared his sentiments against the weapon, but the humanoid's reason had been more specific compared to his own. While he was concerned about murdering the innocent, Roger was concerned about Airyglyph. Then, there was that romantic exchange between the Menodix and that Albel guy at the facility… Was it really compassion and childish innocence that drove Roger, or was it something else?

"… care of yourselves. Got it?"

"Huh?"

Fayt had been so wrapped up in his thoughts he failed to register Cliff's words. The blonde shook his head in exasperation.

"I _said_ I'm following Nel. So you and the chipmunk stick close and take care of yourselves."

"Oh. Right."

"What did ya call me?!"

Ignoring the Menodix, Cliff casually wrapped his arm around Nel's shoulders and steered them through the crowd. "So, I was thinking about a tavern…"

The last thing Fayt and Roger heard was Nel praising the Klausian's refinement with blatant sarcasm, before they disappeared from view completely. The pair stood around awkwardly, at least it felt that way to Roger, who was still torturing himself over Fayt's recent coldness. The older male looked like he didn't even want to _be_ around him at all. Somehow, that thought hurt Roger more than he allowed himself to admit.

"So, uh… Fayt?"

Said male raised an eyebrow, but did nothing to pursue a conversation. He pressed on, undaunted. "I'm… uh… gonna visit a good friend of mine. She lives here, on the east side; sells flowers fer a livin' – he smiled up innocently at Fayt – ya wanna come with?"

And so, Fayt, newly crowned jerk of the century, said the first thing that came to his mind.

"Um, I'd want to follow you _why?"_

Roger felt a pang in his heart. He bowed his head miserably.

"N-Never mind. I'll see ya at the inn. Sorry fer the trouble."

With that, he dashed off, leaving Fayt to wallow in a raging river of his own regret. Why the hell did he just say that?! Wasn't alone time with Roger something he'd been looking forward to since they arrived here? The kind where they could freely be themselves and do whatever they wanted without fear of being interrupted by Cliff or Nel, kind of alone time? He'd lost count of the number of times his so-called bodyguard ruined perfectly romantic moments between them, and he'd been _so desperate_ for a moment like this… so _why_ in the 100 billion galaxies was he single-handedly _screwing it up?!_

Oh. Because he was too busy thinking about tall-dark-and-psychotic stealing Roger from him, to think about Roger at all. _Sure_ Fayt, that made _so much sense._ And people often wondered how he never had a girlfriend/boyfriend until this day.

He buried his face in his hands with a groan. At the rate he was going, he wouldn't be surprised if Roger _did_ choose Albel over him.

So, Fayt spent his day wandering around Peterny alone, not really having the heart to go after Roger out of both pride and shame. Besides, the boy had said his friend's house was on the east side, but he didn't know _which_ one it was and he wasn't going to barge in on every single house and ask for a kid and his female friend, whom by the way he didn't know the name of. People would think he was crazy.

"If you don't have enough money to pay, then beat it!"

A door swung open and an old drunkard flew straight out across the street and crashed into a bunch of crates opposite. Fayt gazed at the figure at the door in wide-eyed horror. If he'd taken a step further, he'd be lying with the drunkard across the road! A young woman in a dark blue, handsomely-tailored modern dress stood crossly with her hands on her hips, the glare on her pretty face, murderous. Her long blonde hair was tied up in two ponytails and in her hand she grasped a peculiar-looking pointer with a gloved hand on its tip. With a huff, she slammed the door closed, the frame shuddering from her wrath. Fayt stared at the sign, which hung over the shop's entrance.

_Craftsman's Guild._

Wait a minute; hadn't Roger mentioned this very guild before? Something about how it's always been his dream to register and become a famous inventor; open a shop of his own someday…

Suddenly, Fayt knew how he was going to make it up to the adorable Menodix. He read the signboard by the entrance.

"Registration fee: 1000 fol – are you serious?!"

 _No wonder_ Roger hadn't the money to sign up on his own. He doubted the boy even had a singe penny on him at all, let alone 1000 fol. He himself only had about 2000 fol left from what Nel had given him back at Kirlsa. However, the mere thought of a thoroughly ecstatic, excitable Roger gushing over his kindness and raining sweet, endless kisses upon his face, was enough to make Fayt reconsider. A dorky grin made its way across his lips.

"Totally worth it."

* * *

And that was how Fayt found himself 1000 fol less and on the verge of being broke.

He sighed and trod through the eastern streets of town, wondering what on earth possessed him to get that license for Roger. It was only after he stepped out of the building, did he realize that he and the Menodix weren't exactly "together" and the odds of Roger showering kisses on him was ultimately zero.

"Nice going, Fayt. Way to act on impulse."

Maybe Sophia _had_ been right about playing all those games. Maybe he really _was_ turning into a brainless muscleman.

And why was he wandering up and down this particular street again? Oh right. Roger's friend lived in one of these houses, just that he still had no friggin' clue which one and he was feeling rather salty to actually knock on the doors and check. He had actually hoped he'd find Roger hanging around the streets or spot him through the windows, but so far none of those things actually happened. He probably looked like a lovesick admirer, or a creepy stalker. Either way, none of those were good and people were starting to give him weird looks.

He slumped against a lamppost, looking to the sky as he made out shapes in the clouds to pass the time. What the hell was he doing? He should be worrying about his parents, Sophia, and his situation with Quark and Vendeen, not thinking of ways to win a young boy's heart. And when the time came for him and Cliff to leave, what then? Was he really so selfish as to claim Roger's love, then break his heart and fly off forever? The boy belonged here on Elicoor II and he belonged on Earth. However, when he looked into Roger's wide, innocent eyes, something told him that he'd never be able to find anyone quite like this boy, even if he somehow managed to cross the entire universe.

Fayt shut his eyes in resignation. Urgh, he was so messed up. Maybe giving way to that prig of a swordsman was the better move. They were both from the same planet and continent (political differences aside) and he didn't doubt Albel's ability to protect the little troublemaker…

But he didn't want to.

"Fayt, you've really done it this time," he said to himself with a sigh.

He was startled from his thoughts however, when he heard the front door of a nearby house slam shut. A lovely young maiden with long brown locks, dressed in a dull pink frock with a brown shawl draped over her shoulders, descended the steps of the front porch and entered her garden. Approaching a well, she lowered the old bucket to draw some water, humming a soft tune. Fayt's jaw dropped and he had to rub his eyes a few good times to make sure he wasn't actually dreaming or having some weird hallucination in the middle of the day. The girl was rather pale, but those big, bright green eyes, soft features, cute little button nose, and that hair… Could it be? Was it really…

"Sophia!"

"Huh?"

And before his brain could catch up to his body, Fayt had leaped over the picket fence, dashed towards her and pulled her into a tight, desperate embrace. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd be so glad to see his childhood friend again. God forbid, he even missed her nagging. He'd give anything to hear her berate him on his video games as she always did.

Fayt buried his face in her soft brown locks and did everything in his power to force down a sob of relief.

"Oh Sophia… I… I never thought I'd see you again."

The girl squeaked in confusion and tried to wriggle out of his arms, but it only made Fayt hold on tighter. "Thank goodness you're all right. But what are you doing here?"

"Umm…" the girl trailed off awkwardly.

When it appeared Fayt wasn't going to let go anytime soon, she decided to finally speak up.

"I… I'm sorry, sir… but who's Sophia?"

"Fayt, what are ya doin' here?"

Said man broke away from the embrace to stare at the speaker by the lawn entrance. Roger stood a few paces from them, balancing a pile of chopped wood in his arms. The Menodix tilted his head innocently.

"Do ya guys know each other?"

* * *

"So her name's Ameena…"

Fayt and Roger sat about the cozy little living room of Ameena's house, while their hostess busied herself by the fireplace preparing tea. After getting over the initial shock and Ameena herself explaining her identity, it immediately led to a feeling embarrassment on Fayt's part. And who wouldn't feel that way? He'd just gone and hugged a random girl in town after jumping over her fence! He was only lucky Ameena was nice and didn't freak out and slap him for that.

"Uh huh! She's the friend I was talkin' 'bout." Roger reached for a cookie on the table and munched on it noisily, crumbs flying everywhere as he talked.

"Took care of me – crunch – after I escaped and – swallow – told me ya guys were at Kirlsa – crunch – so ah went."

He paused when a sudden thought entered his mind and he looked down sadly. His ears flopped from the weight of his remorse.

"But Meena's really sick." He spoke so softly that Fayt had to lean close to hear him. "She has this terrible illness that the doctors can't cure, but she's real strong ya know? She's fightin' real hard to live through this war."

Hm? Ameena's sick? Earlier, he'd heard the girl coughing every now and then; and judging from her history of birth in frigid Airyglyph, as well as the civilization level of this planet, he was pretty sure she'd contracted tuberculosis. Roger's words weren't far from the truth: nothing on this underdeveloped planet could cure her, but if Mirage managed to arrive with help, then maybe…

Fayt chanced a glance at the kindly girl tending to the fire, blissfully humming away.

"So I promised her I'd come back fer her," Roger continued, recalling his words from before with a sad smile.

"When the war's over, I'll come back fer her and take her ta live with me in Surferio – it's her dream ya see. Besides, it's always sunny there and it'll be good for her health. She can live with pops, mama, and myself once we lift the isolation policy. She can help out at the inn and everythin'."

He reached for another cookie, but ended up putting two in his mouth.

"Ah wouldn't – munch – want her all cooped up – munch – alone in this house an'way."

Suddenly, Roger's face turned blue as the cookie went down the wrong pipe. He coughed and banged a fist against his chest repeatedly.

"Didn't I tell you not to talk with your mouth full?" Ameena giggled as she approached the boys, laying the tea set on the table. Then she turned to Fayt and bowed.

"I must thank you for looking after my dear friend." She offered him a warm smile. "Roger can be… _quite_ a handful."

"Hey, don't talk 'bout me like I'm not here!"

Fayt chuckled and shook his head. "It was nothing. In fact, _I_ should be the one thanking you, Ameena. For looking out for Roger."

A knowing look flashed across her eyes, but it was so fast that Fayt believed he must have imagined it. She brought up a hand to hide her laughter, and Fayt realized that through this simple dainty gesture, Ameena was worlds apart from the headstrong Sophia.

"Don't mention it, Fayt."

"Speakin' of lookin' after," Roger interrupted, directing his gaze at Ameena, "Thanks fer havin' my back, Ameena. I don't know how ya did it, but stallin' Albel really gave me that head-start I needed."

Ameena regarded him with a frown. "Actually, I didn't do anything. When Albel barged into my house, I honestly thought I was a goner. But he was surprisingly merciful – he let me live."

"What did he do?"

"He just… ran off."

"That's it?"

Ameena shrugged, not knowing what else to make of the Captain's strange behavior that night.

"I don't believe it." Roger clasped his hands; they shook. "He let me go."

Ameena tilted her head with a soft "Hmm?" but was interrupted before she could tease the truth out of him.

"Is anyone going to fill me in on what we're actually talking about?" Fayt gestured at the sheepish friends with an irritated scowl. "And why would Albel want to kill you, Ameena? From what I understand, you're in Aquarian territory. Killing you would be treason."

"Yes, it would seem so." Ameena settled down in her chair with a sigh. "Perhaps that's why he fled. Though that itself doesn't make sense since he already risked so much to infiltrate Peterny in the first place."

Meanwhile, Fayt processed the girl's statement, formulating his own speculations.

"Back at the Kirlsa Training Facility, this guy called Shelby mentioned about Albel's absence. Even Albel himself admitted to it after his lieutenant went down…"

His eyes widened as he put two and two together. Hold on a second; was Albel on a solo mission to capture Roger?"

"You defeated Shelby of the Black Brigade?!" Ameena exclaimed in disbelief. Fayt shook his head in growing frustration.

"That's not important now. I want to know why Albel would kill his own lieutenant to save Roger's life, especially if he meant to abduct him in the first place. Then _why_ would he let us go?"

Ameena's mouth fell open in complete shock. This was insane! First, the sadistic, bloodthirsty captain spared her life; and now he's turning his back on his own people? She couldn't understand his motives, far more than many people already failed to comprehend. She had been so sure that his target had been Roger all along… Huh. Come to think of it, all of this drama started after _that incident_ at the central plaza three days ago…

"Fayt," she spoke, turning her attention to said man, "you asked earlier why Albel would have any reason to kill me. What if I told you he wanted answers – that I was the only one who knew Roger's true identity?"

Fayt's pupils dilated, breath catching in his throat. He recalled their first confrontation with the cruel captain; how Roger's ears and tail had been exposed; how the guy kept staring… Fayt groaned in dismay.

"Albel never knew Roger was a humanoid, did he?"

And they'd just fled the facility without giving much thought to the matter, leaving the Glyphian to his own devices. Traitor or not, it didn't change the fact that Albel possessed vital information that he could use against the Sanmite Republic. Perhaps Shelby's death had been nothing more than a ploy? Regardless, the man could use this knowledge to redeem himself.

"And why aren't _you_ worried?" He suddenly directed the question at Roger, who seemed to have taken a sudden interest in the old carpet on the floor.

"Fayt… I…" He pondered over his words, struggling with the same emotions he experienced during the Arias discussion. "I used ta be afraid of him – an image of a young sobbing Albel flashed through his mind – but not anymore. I just don't think he'd tell anyone."

"Is that a hunch?" Fayt bit out sarcastically.

"No. I don't know. I just _know_."

He knew he wasn't making any sense; then again, there were just some things in this world that _couldn't_ be explained. It wasn't his gut feeling, or his sixth sense telling him this, but something else. It was like he looked into Albel's soul and just _knew_ , like he did back at the central plaza when he met the stoic swordsman for the very first time…

But Fayt was really mad at him.

Roger felt an uncomfortable feeling well up in his heart. Normally, he wasn't so sensitive – many said he had the thickest skin in Surferio and the confidence to go with it – but when it came to the blue-haired swordsman, he found himself constantly needy for… what? The man's approval; attention; affection? He didn't know why, but Fayt was attacking him so much lately. It really hurt.

"Why did you side Airyglyph?" Fayt pressed on, eager to bring back the Arias discussion. "Was it out of compassion, or because of one guy?"

"I _told_ ya! I just want peace… I want all the fightin' ta end…"

"So does Nel. So does Ameena. So does _everyone_! And you think making me promise not to build that weapon is going to bring about peace?! You said so yourself, Roger: Ameena is sick; nations are hurting each other; there isn't much time!"

Fayt balled his hands into fists; jaw clenching. He couldn't allow Airyglyph to make an attempt on Roger's life again.

"I'll do it. I'm building that weapon."

"Are ya hearin' yourself?!"

Roger fought back tears, fists shaking angrily by his sides. Fayt was going to destroy a whole kingdom! What happened to the kind and gentle swordsman he once knew? The angel Palmira sent him was a… was really a…

"Albel isn't the monster, Fayt; you are."

The look on Fayt's face was utterly terrifying.

"I knew it. It _was_ because of _him_!"

" _What are ya sayin'?!"_

"Ahem." Ameena coughed loudly, effectively getting the boys' attention. "Fayt, can I talk to you for a minute?"

She turned her back to them and left the living room, leaving Fayt no room for argument and with little choice but to follow her. He stepped into the walkway and she whirled around to face him with a patient stare.

"You're not being a very good boyfriend."

He sputtered.

"B-Boyfriend?!" His eyes darted about nervously. "Who told you that – with Roger – we're not boyfriends."

Ameena's eyes widened from surprise as she covered her mouth in embarrassment. "Oh. I'm sorry… I just assumed you two were a couple after Roger wouldn't stop going on about you."

In that instant, all previous anger towards the Menodix vanished. Sincere curiosity and the tiniest bit of hope fluttered in his chest.

"Going on about me?" he repeated.

Ameena rolled her eyes, but the bemused smile on her lips betrayed her apparent exasperation.

"You should have heard him. You were the only thing he kept talking about as soon as he stepped through those doors; how amazing you are. For a moment, I thought Apris gave us a god instead of an engineer from Greeton."

She giggled while Fayt started to feel rather self-conscious. It wasn't long before a tinge of red spread across his cheeks. Roger _admired_ him? Even after the horrible way he'd been treating him? Fayt felt like a failure and a complete turd – all this while, the boy harbored nothing but pure affection and respect towards him, and he had stupidly allowed his jealousy to get the better of him. But the damage was done. Could he really hope to earn Roger's forgiveness now? He feared he already ruined the Menodix's positive impression of him.

Sensing the turmoil he was going through, Ameena took his hand and gave it an affirming squeeze. Her eyes shone with understanding, her smile kind.

"Have you told him yet?"

They both knew what she meant. Fayt shook his head, hating himself.

"How can I? I'm not from this place and eventually…" he trailed off miserably. "I don't want to hurt him. It's selfish."

"But do you…?"

"Yes."

"Then don't delay it." Ameena turned to stare at the portraits on the wall wistfully. "Or you'll lose your chance forever."

Her gaze honed in on the picture closest to her. It was of herself during childhood and next to her stood a bespectacled little boy with dark hair. She reached out and traced his face fondly with the tips of her fingers, secretly wishing, imagining that the callous texture of the oil paint was the boy's warm skin.

"There's another reason I wish to live through this war, a reason I haven't told anyone – not even Roger." Her lips trembled with emotion. "Because of my health I moved to Peterny and got separated from my best friend. When the war's over, I hope to find him. I want to see him again, so much…"

"Ameena…"

It was an unspoken understanding between them both. The girl's wish was just as hopeless as she herself sounded. It made him want to do all he could to help her.

"Oh, I almost forgot."

She fished out something from her apron pocket and pushed it into Fayt's hand. He parted his fingers and stared at the odd trinket – a dried up flower shaped like a star and a few tiny red beads sewn onto its center.

"What's this?"

"We call it the Maiden of Irisa," she explained with a smile.

"It's a charm for protection. When you carry it with you, the Goddess Irisa will watch over you and those you hold dear. I used to carry it with me when I made the journey from Airyglyph to this town. Now, I want you to have it – she closed his fingers around the charm – promise me you'll keep Roger safe?"

"I promise."

Satisfied with his answer, Ameena excused herself and made to return to the living room. However, at the doorframe, she stopped.

"Oh, and Fayt?"

"Yeah?"

She gazed at him in a mixture of sorrow and encouragement.

"Seize the chance and tell him while you still can. If you wait, you may never get to and before you know it, your whole life passes you by…"

Letting out a string of coughs, Ameena re-entered the living room and into the concerned presence of a certain Menodix. Fayt watched her go, unsettled. He didn't move from his spot.

* * *

"Hey, Nel? Can I ask ya summin?"

After slipping her nightgown over her head, the Aquarian turned to stare at Roger, who sat facing the opposite wall. Night had fallen and their little party of four had checked into the _Front Door Inn_. After thoroughly enjoying their dinner, which was freshly prepared by the inn staff, they were in the process of getting ready for bed – well, Nel and Roger at least; they didn't know about the guys. Tomorrow was the final stretch of the journey – they'd enter Aquois.

"Sure Roger, what is it? And you can turn around now."

The Menodix did just so, donned in his own cream-colored nightshirt. The sleeves were so long that the excess flopped about uselessly whenever he waved his arms and when he sat down, the shirt extended past his toes. Unfortunately, this was the smallest nightie the inn had.

"Why do ya like that big dummy?"

Nel crimsoned.

"I… I don't – "

"Don't bother hidin', Nel. We all know." Roger laughed, smirking. "So why _do_ ya like him?"

Nel fell silent, settling on her bed. She pondered over the question, running over a dozen plausible explanations through her brain, but didn't seem satisfied with any if the frown on her face indicated anything. Finally, she arrived at a thought and nodded to herself, seemingly satisfied with her conclusion.

"I don't know."

Roger smacked himself on the forehead. "Yeesh… At least _pretend_ ta try."

"Well, I could," she said with a placating smile, "but none of the reasons even come close to how I truly feel. I could say it's because he's handsome; he's funny; brave, noble, and true; or I could say he's completely crazy." She listed Cliff's qualities with her fingers.

"But none of these reasons alone can fully explain what he means to me. That's why I can honestly tell you, I don't know. Plus isn't it wonderful to know that you have more than one reason why you like someone?"

"Huh. So… ya just like him. Even if it hurts, even if ya might never see him again?"

She nodded. "I like him because I do. Isn't that the most important?"

Roger smiled quietly to himself, thinking about a certain blue-haired swordsman in the next room. "Yeah, it is."

A brief silence stretched between them, before Roger finally plucked up the confidence to ask that one burning question he had since they left Arias that morning.

"I take it you're gonna drop me off at Surferio first, then go with the guys ta the royal city?"

However, Nel's subsequent words surprised him.

"Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about that." She spoke calmly, professional as always. "I would like you to consider helping Aquaria and our researchers with the weapons. Fayt's told me about your technological aptitude with machines – something I myself hadn't known about in our years of friendship."

Roger chuckled nervously. "Heh heh… well, we were always trainin' and competin'… I never really got the chance ta bring it up."

"I see." Her eyes flickered with determination. "In the event Fayt and Cliff decide not to help us, I would like you to lend your skills to our research team. At the very least, try."

He swallowed audibly, a great weight settling on his shoulders. Now he finally understood the sort of pressure Fayt was going through. And it suddenly occurred to him that the stuff the guy said back at Ameena's house, no matter how harsh, rang with a certain level of truth. Aquaria was really pushing to end the war quickly and put a stop to the people's suffering; then there was Ameena and the promise he made her…

Nothing would change unless he actually did something about it.

That was when he suddenly realized that if Airyglyph won, they might declare war on the Sanmite Republic as well. This wasn't the Aquor he envisioned – the three kingdoms co-existing in perfect harmony – but a likely dictatorship. Aquaria had no intention in conquering Glyphian lands. They were simply fighting back in a bid for future peace.

It made him mad that he failed to realize this until now.

"I know this is sudden, but you don't have to decide right away – "

"I'll do it."

Roger met her stunned gaze with fierce determination. His fingers dug into the material of his nightshirt, never more sure of himself than he was now.

"Nel, ya said that a real man always puts the needs of others before himself. Ya also said that ya left ta fight this war cuz ya have a kingdom ta protect." He stood on his bed with confidence. "I have a kingdom ta protect too. I won't let my people fall ta Airylgpyh!"

Nel was too stunned to speak, moved by the Menodix's speech. The boy that she had grown to love like a son had matured so much in these eight months, and she couldn't be more proud. So, unable to fully translate her emotions into words, she reached out and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Thank you," she whispered into his hair. "I'd be honored to escort you to Aquois."

He hugged her back just as strongly. "Don't mention it."

She pulled away from the embrace and tugged back the covers of her bed, climbing into it.

"We have a long day tomorrow. Try to get some rest."

"… Nel?"

She sat up. "Yes?"

Roger hadn't moved from his position, feet still dangling over the edge of the mattress. He fisted the material of the covers anxiously, expression troubled.

"Fayt's been really mean lately."

"Has he?" Nel titled her head in surprise. "When did it start?"

"After we got back from the training facility. Did I say anythin' wrong?" Nel gave him a pointed stare and he pouted. "Ya know, _more_ than usual?"

She gave that question some thought, but shook her head helplessly.

"Not that I know of, sorry."

He sighed heavily. "Yeah, I thought so." Then he jumped off his bed and padded towards the door. "I'm gonna get some water."

* * *

The blade sliced through the air with just the right amount of power, producing a loud and sharp 'whoosh!' Its wielder spun and ducked, slashing out at the invisible enemy in front of them. Cursing, they straightened up and prepared to go again.

Half a second too slow – unacceptable.

Despite the slight chill in the air, Fayt had removed his shirt, the effects of his training warming up his body significantly. His entire torso was drenched in perspiration; the muscles in his arms rippled as he gripped his sword, controlling the power of each swing. His core was burning from stabilizing his body for such an extended period, but no matter how much his muscles cried out, he refused to stop.

'Not until I'm perfect.'

He thrust his sword out.

_'You might have some potential, but you're no match for me.'_

With a cry, he brought the blade down in a powerful strike.

_'… especially one who wields a blade as sloppily as you.'_

He clenched his teeth. Sweat trickled down his brow.

_'Easy wins have never been my style.'_

Suddenly, a burning heat gathered at the center of his forehead and Fayt brought up his free hand to grip his head tightly, fingers digging into his scalp, body hunching over. It was just like that time in the Traum Mountains… What… what the hell was going on? It hurt – _God, it hurt!_ Was he sick? He just wanted the pain to stop… wanted the fire in his blood to cease… all that pounding in his skull…

"Nrgh! No… _stop…"_

_'I won't let any harm come to you. I swear upon my life.'_

_'Thanks, Abel… Thanks fer savin' my life.'_

SMASH!

And the pain finally disappeared.

Fayt cracked his eyelids open hesitantly and was shocked to find the bunch of barrels he'd been practicing in front of, smashed to bits. His grip on his sword's hilt shook as he blinked rapidly at the spectacle.

'Woah… did I do that?'

But why couldn't he remember?

"… Fayt?"

He stiffened; he knew that voice all too well. Turning to face the inn's entrance from where he stood in the middle of the street, he spotted the small humanoid child gazing at him with wide, curious eyes. The front of his oversized nightie was a little wet, no doubt after having drunk some water from the drinking fountain. However, that minor imperfection didn't change the fact that the boy looked utterly adorable in his eyes.

Roger yawned and rubbed his face with the long sleeve of his nightie.

"You've been trainin' fer two nights." His eyes darted between Fayt's sword and the broken splinters of wood on the stone streets. "Can't sleep? Is summin wrong?"

Fayt turned his back to him coldly.

"It's nothing. Go to bed."

Roger balled his hands into fists, a determined pout settling upon his lips. Enough was enough – he was going to get to the bottom of the swordsman's callous attitude once and for all. Brush _him_ aside, aye? Well, he was going to show Fayt Leingod it took more than a few mean words and a cold shoulder to get rid of him that easily.

"Oh, quit bein' such a jerk!" He snapped, taking a bold step forward. "What did I do wrong, Fayt? I'll do my best ta make it up ta ya. Just tell me… please – he bowed his head in shame – If I made ya mad, I'm sorry. Honest I am."

Just hearing how miserable Roger sounded increased Fayt's self-loathing to a whole new level. Guilt weighed heavily on his being and he struggled to force aside his resentment to be true to the sweet and precious boy before him, who unwittingly held both his attention and his heart.

"No, Roger, you didn't do anything wrong." With a sigh, he turned to face the child, who gazed hopefully up at him. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself."

He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, recalling the Black Brigade Captain's words over and over; how Roger suffered under the hands of Shelby and his cruelty.

"Every time I look at you, I see my own failure. You almost _died_ , Roger, and I failed to protect you as promised. You, who I've grown to care about more than anything."

Fayt bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. There was bitterness on his tongue and in his speech.

"Instead, the very guy I was _supposed_ to protect you from ended up being the guy who _saved your life!_ "

His outburst shocked the young Menodix, who jerked back, conflicted. Fayt _cared_ for him? The idea made his stomach do happy flips and caused a smile tug at the corners of his lips; but it was also so painful to watch the man beat himself up like this over his perceived failure. Was this why Fayt was pushing himself so hard, training late at night and into the wee hours of the morning; not getting enough sleep?

"Fayt, I…" But he was interrupted before he could provide the swordsman any form of assurance.

"I know why you were afraid of going to Kirlsa. I understand now." Fayt spoke dejectedly, shadows obscuring his eyes. "You weren't afraid _of_ Albel. You were afraid of others finding out about you two."

"Huh?!"

Roger's eyes widened to the size of saucers, cheeks turning red from mortification. Unfortunately, Fayt mistook his blush as confirmation to his previous statement.

"You were worried about the political repercussions of your affair."

" _No!_ That's not it. I can't like Albel – "

"Don't worry, I get it."

"No ya don't, ya dummy!" Roger shouted, pulling at his ears and jumping up and down in frustration.

This was _crazy!_ All this time, Fayt was acting like a big jerk because he was _jealous?!_ Because he thought that there was something going on between him and… Albel?! He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so he settled for being honest instead.

"Ya dummy," he said with a sentimental smile, "I can't like Albel because I like _ya,_ Fayt. It's always only been ya."

And why? Roger gave in with a laugh. He honestly didn't know. Nel was right when she said she couldn't find a single reason that could satisfy her, and now he was experiencing the same thing. He'd only known the guy for three days, but already he felt a strong connection with the Greeton swordsman, a connection fostered from an entity that he didn't quite understand. The reason was there, but elusive; and whenever he tried to reach out for it, it slipped past his fingers. But the warmth remained and knew in his heart that it was here to stay, _wanted_ it to stay…

"Fer as long as possible."

He inclined his head to stare into Fayt's mesmerizing green eyes, a pure grin spreading across his face. Never mind if it hurt. Never mind if this couldn't last forever.

"I wanna like ya fer as long as possible."

The sword crashed onto the ground and before Roger could so much as gasp, he felt himself pulled into a strong, protective embrace. Fayt was on his knees, moved beyond words. He buried his face in Roger's unruly tresses, breathing in his scent of soft vanilla and autumn leaves. Then he tilted his head slightly to whisper against the boy's ear.

"You have no idea how badly I wanted to hear those words. Since I first laid eyes on you, you were all I could think about – night and day, day and night." His breath was warm and sent a pleasant tingle down Roger's spine. "I can't stand the thought of anyone else having you. I… I like you too, Roger, so much."

"Fayt…"

The swordsman nipped the end of his ear and Roger moaned, clinging onto the older male's warm skin. It was then he remembered Fayt was half-naked, which caused him to blush profusely.

"Um… so, are we… uh… boyfriends now?" he mumbled shyly, to which Fayt chuckled in response.

"That depends." He leaned in so that their noses touched. "Do you want me to be? Your boyfriend that is."

Roger stuttered, his brain completely failing him. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Fayt liked him too. Like, _really_ like-liked him, unlike… suddenly he huffed, turning his face away.

"Ya have some nerve, ya know that?" He pouted; refusing to meet Fayt's eyes least his resolve crumbled. "Getting all worked up over Albel when _ya_ were the one who kissed that Mayo girl."

It took a while for Fayt to process the boy's statement, but when he did, he laughed – he _actually laughed!_ Roger huffed as he tried to struggle out of the man's embrace, but Fayt quickly collected himself and coaxed the humanoid's gaze back on him. To be entirely honest, he had forgotten all about Mayu the cook, so it took a while for him to get Roger's reference. He stared at the Menodix, amused yet secretly pleased.

"Wait, you weren't _jealous_ were you?" he teased, fingers playing with the ends of Roger's short hair. "There's nothing going on between us – heck, I don't even remember her name."

Roger eyed him skeptically. "Ya sure?"

"Positive."

He grinned and wrapped his arms around Fayt's neck, his wagging tail tickling the swordsman's thigh and making him giggle. It was only this close did Roger realize how captivating Fayt truly was. Oh, he already knew the guy was handsome, but up close like this, the swordsman really looked like a prince. He'd heard tales of how the people of Greeton were like rock monsters, great and ugly – that _couldn't_ be right.

Roger took his time to map out Fayt's features: nicely shaped brows, long lashes, gorgeous emerald eyes, high cheekbones and a strong jaw; not to mention an incredibly fit body. An artist couldn't have chiseled a finer specimen, and the guy was all _his_.

Roger's gaze fell onto the man's lips. He wondered…

"Hey, Fayt?" He blushed nervously. "What's a kiss feel like?"

Said man stared at him blankly. Roger hadn't been kissed before? A wide, mischievous smirk made its way across his lips. Fayt pulled Roger flush against his bare chest and locked eyes with him.

"Let me show you."

And faster than Roger could react, Fayt dipped his head and captured the boy's lips in a demanding kiss. Roger squeaked in surprise and Fayt seized the chance to push his tongue past those succulent lips into the boy's sweet cavern. Coaxing Roger's inexperienced tongue into play with his own, Fayt eased the muscle out far enough for him to suck on it fervently. Roger's eyes slid shut and a loud moan escaped the confines of his throat, but it was captured in their passionate lip lock. Just when a breathless, light-headed Roger thought he'd be happy to die right here and now, Fayt broke the kiss and pulled away, a thin trail of saliva following in his wake.

"Mmm…" Roger moaned, cheeks thoroughly flushed as he gazed up at an equally satisfied Fayt through half-lidded eyes. "Ya stole my fist kiss."

A dark hunger entered Fayt's eyes. ' _Mine,'_ he heard his inner-self growl in possession. He picked up the Menodix, who instinctively wrapped his legs around his waist, and slammed him against the inn door, lips descending upon soft pinks once more. His grip around Roger's waist shifted down to grasp his ass. Roger moaned into Fayt's mouth; he broke the kiss, panting.

"N-Not out here. Someone might hear…"

"Then come to my room." Fayt breathed in-between playful nips to the boy's lips.

Suffice to say, he didn't need to do much convincing. Roger was pure putty in his hands.

"Buh-But what about stupid?"

Fayt chuckled sexily, trailing his lips up the hot flesh of his young lover's cheek to stop at his ear. He blew a sensual breath upon it, causing the furry thing to twitch in excitement.

"Don't worry. I got a hunch Cliff's already in your room." He ghosted his fingers across Roger's kiss-swollen lips. "Besides, I'm not done with you yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw yeah! Finally we get some steamy hot action from our main couple. Airylgpyh's finally stepping up their game, but then again, so are our heroes. Yeah, Albel's in real big shit right now, but hopefully he (me) will find a way out of his mess. Also, I hoped you guys appreciated that little Cliff/Nel moment. I do have an affinity towards these two and I've always wished Square Enix allowed shipping between the other characters as well.
> 
> Thanks for the hits and kudos!


	11. Cross My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating has been bumped up to accommodate progressive sexual content. 
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains explicit, underage, homosexual content. Reader's discretion is advised.

Stifling silence hung thick in the air; dark shadows cast upon the walls and ceilings from the dim glow of candles. Within the common room of the Huxley residence and family inn, sat Surferio's chief, Sanmite's Prime Minister, and head of the family himself, Aznor S.T Huxley. The Menodix was going through a few reports while his wife, Forte, busied herself with a cross-stitch pattern opposite him. Such moderate, quiet activities would have seemed reasonable in light of exercising courtesy towards their slumbering patrons. Unfortunately, the Huxleys hadn't had guests for months, not after the isolation policy had been put in place – no one came by Surferio anymore. So, it couldn't be a matter of respect. No, their reserved behavior was due to something else entirely, a forced state of normalcy, a calm before the storm.

Suddenly, the front door slammed open, striking the wall next to it so hard, the surrounding structure trembled. Forte jumped in fright; Aznor, however, remained calmly seated and never once took his eyes off his documents, unaffected by the dramatic entrance of their unexpected guest.

"Aznor, what's the meaning of this?!"

A furious Fellpool stood at the entranceway, shaking a rolled up piece of parchment in his fist.

"Are we to roll over and give into the demands of those… those _tyrants_?"

"Ah, Defense Minister Malroy." Aznor pushed back his chair and greeted his good friend. "What brings you here this late at night?"

"You know damn well why I'm here."

The friendly smile on the Menodix's face fell. Without breaking eye contact with Malroy, he called out to his wife.

"Forte, my dear, would you give us some privacy?"

Not needing to be told twice, the demure humanoid gathered her things and left the two ministers to their devices. Malroy crossed the room swiftly and took over Forte's spot, glaring daggers at his friend across the table. Inwardly, Aznor sighed, having predicted his Defense Minister's rage before he even issued _that_ report. He supposed this discussion was inevitable.

"Malroy, if you have any reservations regarding Sanmite's current position, I'd be happy to discuss them." He smiled and settled back down, placing his monocle over his good eye as he returned to his work. "Honestly, you're overreacting. It's just a slight change, but I'm sure everyone will get used to it."

"Don't give me that bullshit, Aznor! Something smells fishy, and it's not my breath."

The Fellpool raked his claws across the table, baring his fangs. "After all, I find it hard to believe that the very guy who drafted our Isolation Policy, went ahead to sign a war treaty with Airyglyph!"

"A _peace_ treaty," Aznor corrected, gazing up at the younger minister calmly.

"The Sanmite Republic cannot sustain itself for long and recent exports to Airyglyph have greatly improved our economy. Why, just this afternoon I saw young Vellion and his family hard at work in the fields. My friend, this treaty is necessary to safeguard Sanmite interests."

"Oh the clauses are fine," Malroy drawled unhappily, "except this."

He unrolled the parchment and slammed it onto the table. A particular number was circled in red. He jabbed at it mercilessly.

"Section 5, #13: The Sanmite Militia, compromising of its Winged Cavalry, Elementalists, and Siege corps, is to provide military assistance to Airyglyph if required. _Obviously_ , since you stepped down and gave me the position as commander, this concerns me."

The Menodix couldn't resist a smirk. "Getting cold feet, Malroy?"

"Up yours, Aznor."

The Fellpool retrieved a note from his coat pocket and slid it across the table. Aznor unfolded it and read its contents with a worried frown. Malroy licked his paw and brought it up to rub at his dark brown hair – an action he tended to do only in the presence of a familiar, mainly because it embarrassed him to enact such feline tendencies. However, it took many years of friendship for Aznor to know that Malroy was actually extremely nervous and agitated.

"That missive came in this morning, shortly after the treaty was officialized," Malroy explained. "I'm tasked to send a unit to Duke Vox to aid in Airyglyph's wartime efforts, but…"

He held his forehead in his hands, miserable. "Crap, Aznor… I don't know what to do, I – "

Malroy stopped short, noticing a _very_ familiar brass helm at the end of the table. He could never forget its peculiar design when he first met Aznor during their adolescence. He could also never forget the young, crazy troublemaker of said guy's son, who inherited that particular helm from his father and wore it like a second skin.

"How'd you get that?" he whispered. "I thought Roger disappeared…"

And then it all made sense.

"… Airyglyph coerced you, didn't they?"

Aznor couldn't keep the act up any longer. He buried his face into his hands with a heavy sigh. It was then that he appeared much older than he really was, revealed to his friend how tired and despondent he felt deep inside. The sudden vulnerability of the usually stoic and resilient village chief unnerved Malroy greatly.

"They have my son," Aznor choked, utterly defeated.

The impact of that statement shocked the Defense Minister into silence. It had simply been a guess; he had no clue how true that actually was. Since the night of Roger's disappearance, their people had combed the streets of all of Sanmite's villages in a desperate attempt to locate the young heir, but when their efforts yielded no results, many had assumed the worst.

And now, it was too late.

Malroy touched his Prime Minister's shoulder, sympathetic.

"Break the alliance."

Aznor reeled from anger. "And give up my chance of ever seeing my son again?!"

"One person for the lives of many is unreasonable! Aznor, you know that!"

"Do you expect me to sit idle knowing my son might die?!"

" _More_ than your son will die if you let this continue!"

The two friends glared at each other, neither backing down from their positions. Both understood where the other was coming from, that the interests of their nation took precedence. But Aznor's undoing, more than his love as village chief and Prime Minister, was his love as a father.

"Malroy, you'd do the same if it were Lucien or Lezard in Roger's place."

That hit a sore spot. The Fellpool said nothing; he knew when to give up – whenever the stubborn Menodix got like this, there was no pacifying him, and even if he refused to admit it, his friend was right. As a father himself, he understood Aznor perfectly, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"… Young Melt and his family are part of the first unit to be dispatched. Airyglyph specifically requested for our Elementalists and Winged Cavalry."

He hesitated, expression pained as he made one last-ditch attempt to get through to the elder.

"Vox wants Peterny. He's asking _us_ to slaughter members of _our_ own territory. Do you not see the madness in this?!"

However, when his speech failed to evoke a response from the silent Menodix, Malroy sighed and rose to take his leave. Though he understood his Prime Minister's reasons, he was disappointed – the purpose of the Republic was to resist the theocratic and autocratic rule of their neighbors, for their ministry representatives to come together and pass policies through mutual discussions. Unfortunately, Aznor failed to uphold their policy of democracy this time. Instead, he had single-handedly written off the Sanmite Republic's freedom and doomed them all.

Malroy paused at the door to spare one last glance over his shoulder at his friend and beloved chief. There was nothing left for him to say.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Aznor."

He shut the door behind him, leaving the Menodix to his troubled thoughts. Forte stepped out from the shadows and approached her husband. Sobbing, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, while he stared intently at the helm he held so protectively in his hands. They remained like that for what seemed like hours, wishing that the howling winds outside were the sounds of laughter from a mischievous child on his way back home.

* * *

Kirlsa's _Iron Stomach Tavern_ was quiet that night, not at all surprising following the events that occurred at the Kirlsa Training Facility last afternoon. The news of Shelby's death spread like wildfire, and the entire squad of Black Brigade soldiers charted off to the various infirmaries was enough to get the citizens of Airyglyph worried. An entire cavalry compromised in a single afternoon - what did that spell for their kingdom now? Were Aquaria winning? Even if they weren't, it certainly appeared that Airyglyph wasn't fairing any better in comparison. Could this be the work of those strange engineers from Greeton? Had _they_ done away with the Black Brigade's late-lieutenant?

Regardless, the people of Kirlsa no longer felt safe in their hometown. It was rare to see anyone out of his or her homes this late at night. So, it was quite baffling to the bartender to have a customer patronize his tavern at all.

"What will it be, sir?"

The tall, cloaked figure paused by the counter. "A bottle of sake, worm. _Do not_ keep me waiting."

The stranger's voice and air of authority sounded unusually familiar, but the bartender didn't think much of it and indicated at the various empty tables for his guest to take a seat. As he prepared the man's drink, the dark figure chose a seat at the far end of the tavern, pulling the hood of his cloak further forward. He caught himself using his gauntlet-encased arm and cursed his negligence. Thankfully, that little slipup went unnoticed.

Albel's eyes darted to a wanted poster on the wall nearby and immediately looked away in disgust. Two million fol for his capture? _Bah!_ As if any of these unskilled worms could take him on – he'd carve their tongues out of their mouths faster than they could so much as scream. Nevertheless, this new development was disconcerting – what did it leave him with? He couldn't return to the castle… what was he to do with his life now?

A bottle of sake and a saucer were placed on the table. Albel wasted no time in pouring a generous amount for himself and downed the sweet liquid in one gulp. The alcohol burned a path down his throat, a sensation that he was all too accustomed to and welcomed with relish. As he poured himself a second helping, he pondered over his current predicament. He was a traitor to the nation, a criminal, and a disgrace to the proud Nox name… though he had always viewed himself a failure from the start. If his father were still alive, he was certain he would have killed the old man from disappointment.

'Why did I let those maggots go?' A memory of a grinning Menodix child flashed through his mind and he stopped to frown. '…Why did I let the little fool go?'

The tavern door swung open and a Storm Brigade soldier sauntered in to sit by the counter. The man ordered himself a mug of ale, but Albel paid the newcomer no heed.

'I saved that foolish brat because that _imbecile_ Shelby failed to understand the value of that humanoid. That maggot would have killed him and ruined our chances for victory.' Seemingly satisfied with that explanation, Albel brought the saucer to his lips and tipped its contents into his mouth. 'But you _didn't_ capture the little fool. You _still_ let him go.'

He choked on his sake.

The tavern door swung open again.

Albel collected himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his good hand. Forget it – there was only so much he could do to continue fooling himself. The fact of the matter remained: he had _protected_ the little brat and let the whole sorry lot go because… he had given up. That realization should have shocked Albel, but strangely, it didn't. Perhaps a small, secret part of him had unconsciously accepted that explanation a long time ago.

The war was dragging on meaninglessly, he wasn't interested in a kingdom that treated him as coldly as the barren mountains it thrived upon, he was tired of constantly proving himself to conceited old men who only ever plotted to get rid of him, and the only person who ever showed _genuine, unbiased_ concern towards him – actually saw him for himself – was in love with someone else. And of all _miserable_ creatures the humanoid picked, it had to be that amateur swordsman from Greeton.

Someone sat at the table next to him, but Albel was too upset with an imaginary Fayt Leingod to exact his hatred upon anyone else… even if they were cutting into his quiet, personal bubble of solitude. His grip around the sake bottle's neck tightened; could have shattered it with his claw if he so wished.

For fuck's sake, Roger was _his!_ He saw him _first!_

Albel tipped the bottle, only to realize he was all out. The grimace on his face was one of self-loathing rather than displeasure.

It was only here, hiding out in this dingy tavern and mulling over his unrequited feelings over a young boy like a bitter, angsty, lovelorn teenager while desperately trying to get drunk on alcohol, that he realized how far he, Albel the Wicked, had truly fallen. He didn't even know how the bloody hell it started. The little fool was no different, no more remarkable than the many other young men and women he had bedded – annoying, expendable and unimportant. In fact, the brat was foolish, obnoxious, rude, _loud…_ But for all his undesirable qualities, the humanoid had addressed him with nothing save genuine admiration; treated him kindly and interacted with him with an open heart. He had forgotten the last time anyone looked at him in a way that _wasn't_ fear, hatred, or lust. And as such, he didn't know how the hell to deal with _any_ emotion that wasn't one of the three above.

"Worm, more sake!" However, the bartender failed to respond.

Albel directed his gaze to the unattended bar counter before frowning. Then, his gaze raked slowly across the tavern and its limited patrons, all of whom were innocuously sipping their drinks. He sighed inwardly, rising from his seat.

How bothersome.

Faster than the eye could blink, Albel kicked his table straight at the Storm Brigade soldier seated next to him. The man reacted quickly, unsheathing his sword to cut through the old wood. Then he surged towards Albel, bringing his blade down in a powerful strike. Bored, Albel jerked his head away and drew his katana from its sheath halfway, countering the attack before delivering a swift kick to the soldier's gut, sending him crashing into a table at the far back. The ex-captain didn't even need to fully draw his weapon.

"Humph. Pathetic."

Someone tried to attack him from behind, but preempting such shameful methods were not entirely difficult. Side-stepping with his back to his opponent, his swift reaction no doubt left his opponent momentarily stunned. Using his attacker's momentum against him, Albel withdrew his blade and spun behind the soldier to deliver a brutal strike at the back of his neck with the hilt of his katana. The man crumpled forward and the wicked one let out an unimpressed scoff.

"If you're trying to apprehend me, at least pretend to put up a fight."

He turned around just as another blade made to slice his neck. He backed away from the relentless soldier. The young recruit went at him in rapid strokes, but for all his efforts, Albel simply dodged the blade by leisurely back-stepping all the attacks. If his attacker could see the blasé expression beneath his hood, the man would have been gravely insulted.

The soldier made to stab Albel's shoulder, but the sword-master saw the move a long time coming and evaded it without a hitch. The blade tore through the material of his cloak, catching in its folds, and with a smirk, Albel threw the thing off, twisted the cloth around the blade and yanked the sword out of the stunned soldier's grasp. Weaponless, the man quaked in fear as he gazed into the terrifying vermillion eyes of Glyphian's deadliest, number one assassin. Albel backed him against a wall and pressed his blade against the man's throat.

"I killed my lieutenant. What makes you think I won't do the same to you?"

"P-Please…" the Storm Brigade soldier pleaded weakly, shaking. Albel's eyes narrowed dangerously, a cruel smirk pulling at his lips.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just kill you where you stand."

"I'll give you two."

Woltar stepped into the tavern, meeting Albel's furious stare head-on, unflinching. By now, the defeated Storm Brigade soldiers had collected themselves. The old count placed his hands within the sleeves of his robes as he dismissed them curtly.

"I will speak with the traitor alone. Stand guard outside and await further instructions."

"Sir!"

Once the last soldier stepped through the doors, Woltar surged forward with remarkable conviction and grasped Albel by the elbow of his good arm. Before the ex-captain could so much as hurl insults at the old Storm Brigade Captain, or demand to know his intentions, Woltar had steered his rebellious charge towards the nearest table and sat the young man down.

"Old fool, I'm in no mood to listen to your meaningless prattle – "

"Silence, boy!" Woltar boomed, assuming his authority as guardian for the very first time in years. The move effectively shocked Albel into silence. The usually calm and amiable disposition of the old count was gone, and the real face of the ruthless Storm Brigade Captain finally revealed itself.

"If it wasn't for that vow I made your father, you'd be rotting in prison for all I care. You, Albel, are a _disgrace_ to Airyglyph and to your proud family's name!"

Woltar forced down his anger and breathed through his nose, momentarily shutting his eyes.

"… which is why I'm presenting you an opportunity to redeem yourself."

Slight surprise flashed across Albel's eyes before they narrowed in suspicion. The old man was giving him a second chance? He wondered how precarious, how _impossible_ his path to redemption had been laid out for him. Knowing these shameless mercenaries, they were probably wishing for the earth and sky.

"I'm listening."

"We have acquired the cooperation of the Sanmite Republic in Airyglyph's wartime efforts. Therefore, we have no use for those Greeton engineers any longer."

… _What?_

"And how did you achieve that, old man?" Albel pried, distrustful of this recent development. Though he ought to be thrilled… right? After all, this _was_ the vision he had originally planned for their kingdom's ultimate triumph over that wretched Aquaria … but what was this irksome feeling in his chest?

"How we went about it is none of your concern," replied Woltar coldly. "All _you_ need to know is that if you successfully carry out His Majesty's request, your treachery will be overlooked and your sentence revoked."

So, they still needed his skills after all, a valid point. He wasn't the best swordsman in all of Airyglyph for nothing. Plus he figured there was no harm in taking advantage of such a 'generous' offer to clear his name. But still, bending the law and throwing him a bargain like this, these people must have been truly desperate to come to him for help.

"And what might that be?"

Woltar leaned forward to hiss into his ear. "Kill the Greeton engineers; Aquaria must not complete that weapon. _And_ ," he fixed Albel with a piercing stare, "capture that humanoid. We need the Prime Minister's son alive."

Albel froze in disbelief. Roger… was the Prime Minister's son? _All this time…_ His grip on his katana hilt tightened. So, they _had_ coerced the humanoids into an alliance after all, and now he was tasked to secure the bait.

But could he do it?

' _Thanks, Albel… Thanks fer savin' my life.'_

… yes, yes he could. He _wasn't_ weak.

"A simple undertaking. When do I start?"

"Immediately." Woltar rose to his feet and shot the ex-captain one last warning stare. "This is your last chance, Albel. Do not disappoint me and your father again."

* * *

Roger bounced merrily along the cobblestone roads of Aquois, his brand new helm bobbing up and down with his movements. It was navy blue and forged in likeness of a shark's head. After Fayt had told him he registered a license for him at the Craftsman's Guild (and a million happy kisses later on Roger's part), they had rushed to Peterny's workshop first thing in the morning to begin work on a new helm to replace the one he had lost at Kirlsa. The Menodix was reluctant at first; after all, his old helm _had_ belonged to his pops, but with Fayt going on about how it was "his responsibility as a boyfriend" to make sure he was "well protected", Roger found himself giving in with a dramatic eye roll and shake of his head. Honestly, the guy was being _way_ too protective. Still, it _was_ a pretty nifty helm.

Nel watched the carefree child before shooting Fayt a knowing smirk. After she and Cliff had walked in on the slumbering boys cuddling each other on Fayt's bed earlier this morning, the cat was finally out of the bag. Unfortunately, that also meant that a thoroughly amused Cliff didn't let poor Fayt hear the end of it, much to the latter's aggravation.

"It suits him," she teased, "I have to hand it to you, Fayt. You know your _boyfriend_ well."

Fayt blushed at the emphasis of that title, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. Their relationship was more or less official, but he still couldn't get used to it like the way Roger had so easily accepted it. Ah, the beauty of innocence…

"Thanks. I think it suits him too – it's cute."

"Well I think it's stupid."

Roger bristled and whirled around to glare at the Klausian.

"Ya callin' _me_ stupid, ya big moron?!"

"I was referring to your stupid helm, but _sure_ – let's just go with that."

As the two began their daily bickering session and attracted the stares of curious on-lookers, Nel shook her head and folded her arms with a heavy sigh. Men.

"I really wonder where they get their energy from. If neither of us stop them, I swear they can go on forever."

Fayt laughed; he couldn't agree more. Then again, he wouldn't trade Roger's spunk for anything in the world.

He took his time to survey the beauty of his surroundings, still unable to get over the rich splendor of Aquaria's sacred royal city – Aquois. When they had stepped through those towering gates but a few minutes ago, Fayt and Cliff were immediately overcome with awe, rendered speechless. Aquois was truly magnificent, picturesque in its unadulterated beauty, and like Nel had said, a true gem of Aquaria. The crystal-clear waters that ran through the city sparkled with a virtuous quality; lush greenery lined the streets and peaked over rooftops; buildings and cobblestone roads shimmered under the light of the late-morning sun; and citizens went about their lives peacefully, carefree. Aquois was like the holy land desperately sought out by pilgrims in stories, a fantastical oasis hidden between reality and illusion. Just standing here made Fayt feel more calm and peaceful than he had ever felt in his entire life.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of saying this: Nel, your kingdom is beautiful."

"Indeed," she replied, a wistful smile on her face. "That's why my people are doing all they can to ensure this beauty is not lost to enemy hands."

"Airyglyph, huh?" Cliff approached them and Nel nodded sadly. He tipped her chin and she managed a small smile for him. Fayt watched their exchange, knowing. Roger tugged on his pants and they shared a look. It was now or never.

"Nel," the Aquarian faced him expectantly, "I'm ready to begin negotiations with the Queen."

Her jaw dropped. "Fayt, are… are you sure?" He nodded his head, expression resolute.

"Airyglyph's tyranny _must_ stop. It's clear to me now that the only nation that can put an end to this madness and bring about true peace is Aquaria." He shot Nel a hesitant smile. "I learnt that from your loyalty, Nel. I'm with you 110% of the way."

"Fayt…" What could she say? She was moved beyond words. Even Cliff watched his charge with growing expectancy.

"During this journey, I've met many people – ordinary people – who are fighting hard in their own way to protect their dreams." An image of a frail Ameena flashed through his mind. "And it made me think about my being here and what I too wish to protect."

Tentatively, Roger's fingers brushed against Fayt's and he held onto the boy's hand firmly.

"This war is hurting everyone: the ordinary people of Airyglyph are starving for their soldiers; Aquarians are dying with their lands raped; and the Sanmite Republic's isolation is cutting back into them because they aren't a self-sustainable community."

Cliff, Nel, and Roger waited on Fayt with bated breath.

"At first I was just going to run away from it all, but then I realized: sometimes, you're the only one that can make a difference – he gazed down at the Menodix tenderly – no matter how small you are. And if it's something that can help people, you've got to give it a try."

Roger grinned and hugged Fayt's leg tightly, his tail wagging in unbridled joy. He knew it - oh he just _knew_ it! Palmira had given him an angel after all. Just then, he felt himself lifted off the ground into Fayt's protective arms. The older male stared intently into his eyes and Roger felt his cheeks heat up.

"I learnt this from someone much braver than myself." He tilted the helm back and pressed his forehead against Roger's. "I promise: I'll do whatever it takes to end this war."

"'Atta boy, Romeo! I knew you'd come through in the end," teased Cliff before casually wrapping his arm around Nel's shoulders. "So, now that that's settled, when are you going to take us to see this queen of yours? I was hoping she'd be hot myself."

Nel groaned inwardly and gave him the biggest eye roll of the century. Fayt she more or less trusted with basic diplomacy, but Cliff… The doubtful expression on her face was never more painful than it was right now.

"Cliff, whatever you do, please don't say something like that in front of Her Majesty."

He waved her concern off. " _Bah,_ come on! You know I didn't mean it… it was a joke." Three pairs of eyes narrowed at him in suspicion and he returned their stares, bewildered. "What?"

Roger and Nel shared a look. "Maybe if we ignore him long enough, he'd disappear."

"Agreed."

Nel stepped out of Cliff's hold while Roger wriggled out of Fayt's embrace. They walked on ahead, leaving the two men behind. Cliff stopped gapping after he fully processed what just happened.

"Hey, come on you guys, I was just kidding!"

Fayt chuckled; pleased to see his so-called bodyguard shown up by his own love interest and a kid. "Well, you got to admit it Cliff, you had that one coming."

"Save me the sass, kid." But his frown soon melted into a proud smirk as he clapped Fayt on the back.

"Hah! What you said back there? Cool, kid. Real cool. Looks like something good came out of being that brat's boyfriend, aye?" He nudged Fayt, who pushed him away with a laugh. "Though what happened to that precious UP3 you used to always worry about?"

Fayt shot Cliff a mischievous smirk. "First of all, I already had a feeling you agreed to help Nel behind my back."

"Sca-ree…"

"Second…" he trailed off as he watched the pair in the distance. Nel was nodding her head while Roger chatted animatedly about something, utterly carefree. His eyes honed in on the wide, enamoring grin on the young Menodix's face.

Back on Hyda IV when Sophia had asked if he liked that Foxtail girl on the beach, he had replied that he didn't because it was ridiculous to fall in love with someone you just met. But now, as he looked at Roger and thought back to their very first meeting in Arias, he realized that that notion wasn't as absurd as he initially thought, that there were some things, or some people, who were perhaps simply meant to be. Gender, race, age, or circumstance, none of those really mattered as long as it felt right.

"When the time comes for us to leave, even when I may never see him again, I want to go knowing that I've done all I can to protect his future. I've made up my mind."

Cliff followed the direction of his gaze and hummed in approval. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

"Hurry up, you two!" Nel waved.

"Yeah! We ain't got all day ya know?"

Fayt and Cliff grinned at each other before breaking into a run.

* * *

"No! Out of the question. Absolutely not!"

The four were on their knees and had their heads bowed in respect, but there was no mistaking the annoyed scowls on each of their faces. Roger looked _this_ close to hurling some discourteous insult; Cliff's fists were shaking so hard, Fayt feared the Klausian would pound the infuriating magistrate's face in. And he thought _his_ frustration was bad…

Earlier, upon their arrival at the audience chamber, Nel had barely gotten past introductions before a middle-aged man named Laselle rudely interrupted her. The noble was quick to criticize and if he hadn't been an important figure of the court, Nel would have socked him. And here they thought they were supposed to have a peaceful, undisturbed audience with the Queen, _not_ deal with a stuck-up, prejudiced royal advisor.

"Roger's skills are commendable. Do you doubt my report?"

" _Report?_ This humanoid wasn't even _mentioned_ in your report!"

Nel glared at him. " _Roger_ –she stressed – is here on personal obligation, specifically to offer our researchers and the Greeton engineers assistance."

"A _humanoid? Assistance?_ Hah!" Laselle waved her off with a dramatic flap of his sleeve. "What can a humanoid child do besides break things? Aquaria cannot afford to take responsibility for a member from the Sanmite Republic – our relations are strained well enough. No, take him back to the woodlands from which he came."

Aside, Roger was fuming as he glared holes into the carpet. What did this jerk take him for, a rodent?! He was describing him and his people like they were nothing but common, uncivilized creatures! Oh, he was aware of the underlying prejudices many harbored towards his race, but this dumb aristocrat _really_ took the cake.

"So you're going to turn away help when it's being offered?"

"Watch your tone, Zelpher," Laselle warned, sizing her up. "You may be Her Majesty's personal aid, but _I_ am her advisor."

"That is enough, Laselle."

A new voice penetrated the tense atmosphere, even and commanding in its regality. Crimson eyes set upon a pale, lovely face, which had been shut throughout the argument, finally opened to regard her waiting audience. The woman's elaborate headdress and royal robes were ample indication of her royal lineage. Nel backed down and returned to her knees. Laselle cleared his throat, collecting himself.

"Forgive me, my queen. I meant no disrespect." At the nod of her head, Laselle turned to address the party of four, doing his best to suppress his displeasure. "Lift your heads. Her Majesty will speak now."

"Welcome, engineers of Greeton and son of Huxley, to the Sacred Kingdom of Aquaria. I am the Queen of this country, Romeria Zin Emurille." Her eyes took in their expectant stares. "Now with the introductions out of the way, let us commence discussions. I assume you know why you are here?"

"You require our assistance in completing Aquaria's Runological weapons," answered Cliff plainly. Romeria nodded.

"That is correct. As you may have heard, our country is at war with Airyglyph, and the war is not going well for Aquaria…" She reached down and retrieved a thick, leather-bound book from the side of her throne. Then, she opened it and flipped to a page she had previously marked out. "This calls to mind Chapter Fifteen of Ikelos' Book of Prophecies, a book that contains the holy teachings of Apris."

Fayt, Cliff and Roger offered each other confused glances, but when the earlier shrugged, they returned their attention to the Queen and Holy Mother. She held the book up and read from its pages.

"Chaos in the holy land. The chaos shall spread catastrophe, and from that catastrophe shall be born a new maelstrom of war." She closed the book and regarded Fayt and Cliff with quiet desperation. "It is our belief that this prophecy is about to come true. And we believe that you are the savior that the prophecy speaks."

Fayt bowed his head, eyes wide in disbelief and heart thumping madly. His fingers upon his knee clenched. Savior…? Prophecy? He had only agreed to come along and give some general advice, but he was totally unprepared for the drama behind the entire situation. This was so overwhelming… he barely passed his tests back in school, but over here, he was being compared to some sort of _god._

Sensing his apprehension, Romeria rose from her throne and descended the steps, conviction radiating off her in waves.

"Our country is now embroiled in a war with Airyglyph. Our beloved neighbors, the Sanmite Republic, are engaged in a self-destructive cause to contravene the bloodshed. Unless something is done, innocent citizens will perish…"

And then, the Holy Mother did something no one had ever seen her do before: she went down on her knees before Fayt and took his hand in hers. She bowed her head before his startled eyes.

"We beg of you to lend us your strength."

"Your Majesty…" Laselle whispered in wide-eyed astonishment. Even Nel was gaping at the scene. Cliff and Roger felt equally uncomfortable, but maintained their eyes on the ground while Fayt… well, how could anyone say no to _that?!_

"Please, Your Majesty – " he stuttered, thoroughly flustered and humbled from her attentions. It was obvious how much Romeria deeply cared for not just her people, but the fate of the many innocent lives scattered across the continent. "I… I don't know what we'll be able to do, but we will do all we can. That's why we came here."

Romeria released Fayt's hand and sat back on her knees. She turned her solemn gaze to Cliff, who nodded at her in reassurance, then allowed it to fall to the youngest member in the room. Roger gulped and inclined his head to face the Queen's regal stare. Remembering all the times his pops drilled him on the proper manner of speech with important figures of the state, he took a deep breath.

"Yer Majesty, as Nel has mentioned, I'm good with machines and my people are well-vested in the mystic arts, similar ta yer Runology, which I might add, the engineers may not be entirely familiar with." When Romeria continued to hold his gaze, he took it as a good sign to proceed. "I can bridge the gap and offer advice ta yer researchers. I'm here on my own free will. I want ta help my people; I'm here ta fight fer peace too."

Romeria's gaze traveled from Roger, Cliff, and Fayt before allowing herself this one moment of weakness: her shoulders slumped forward and pure relief rang in her voice. She bowed deeply, humbly.

"We are in your debt."

Laselle approached his beloved Queen and helped her to her feet. Then he turned his attention to their guests and indicated for them to rise.

"I believe your journey has worn you out. You may freshen up in the palace baths before joining our researchers in the Runological Weapons Laboratory." He looked to Nel, all previous malice seemingly forgotten. "Nel will show you to your rooms. I'm afraid we uphold strict, virtuous conduct in the palace, so all of you will be entitled to a room each."

The group was dismissed and when they were back out in the hallway, Nel motioned them to follow her as she led them back to the first floor. They entered the corridor at the extreme right. She indicated at the four rooms closest to her.

"The first room's yours, Fayt; Cliff, the second, followed by yours, Roger. Mine's the fourth." She offered them a kind smile. The guys noticed the Aquarian had been in a considerably more positive, amicable mood after they agreed to help her country.

"I'll be at the chapel performing worship. Come find me if you need anything or have any questions."

Roger raised his arm to get her attention. "Yeah, I have a question!" His big, innocent eyes sparkled. "Didn't that mean jerk say summin 'bout baths? Where's that?"

Nel had to resist a chuckle. How could she forget? Humanoids, especially Menodixes, had a penchant for personal hygiene. They _loved_ baths and they loved playing in water even more. In a way, they were like kids.

"Up the stairs and down the right. It's a huge chamber, you can't miss it."

"Thanks! See ya!"

And he was off like lightning, potentially even faster than when he smelled food. Nel shook her head good-naturedly, offered the two men one last parting smile before heading off. They watched her figure disappear around the corner and it was only at that moment when Fayt released a loud sigh of relief and slumped forward, all that previous tension from meeting the Queen dissipating in waves. Man, what a day!

Cliff laughed. "So what are _you_ going to do? We have about… an hour to spare? I was thinking of checking out the chapel."

"Chapel?" Fayt shot him a cheeky grin. "You can't share a room with Nel, so you're hitching her in the chapel. Cliff, you sly dog." He threw the Klausian's own words back at him and Cliff reddened slightly, much to his amusement.

"Gah! It's not like that. I just figured that with the whole of Aquois looking like a scene straight out of a painting, their chapel's _got_ to be something amazing." He folded his arms proudly. "I'm an atheist myself, but I'm interested in the art."

Fayt regarded him skeptically. " _You_? Art?"

"Hey, don't go doubting my creative flair. I'll have you know that I'm quite the artiste."

"Really now!"

"Ho _sure!_ " Cliff thought back to an old conversation he had with Mirage. "Mirage and my leader said that I'm 'the kind of guy who always thinks with his emotions before his head'. I guess that makes me an impressionist."

Fayt felt his respect for the blonde crumble. "I don't think that's what they meant…"

But Cliff ignored him.

"They also said that I'm 'always looking at pretty women', which I guess was their way of praising my keen sense of aesthetics. Not bad, huh?"

Fayt sighed. He missed Roger's company already.

* * *

"Ahhh… This is the life…" Roger sighed in pure bliss, chin deep in warm water and a wet towel on his head. Scents from the minerals in the water mingled with the Palmira petals floating on the surface.

Nel hadn't been kidding when she said he couldn't miss this place – it was _huge_. Even the tall, ivory double-doors with its gold-plated handles stood out amongst the other chambers in the castle. The bath was divided into two sections: the male and the female side, each half blessed with a gorgeous view which overlooked the royal city and the lush hills and meadows in the distance. Now, Roger wasn't sure about the female side (he admitted he _had_ been curious, but his conduct as a 'real man' stopped him), but it probably wasn't that much different from the male's bathing chambers.

Pristine marble floors were polished so meticulously, one could see their face in it; the bath was like a giant pool, with a long bench to the side for people to place their clothes atop; and water flowed into the bath via a number of aesthetic fountains and sculptures. One of the sculptures was the goddess Irisa with her cup of ever-flowing water; another was the goddess Palmira holding up a basin overflowing with water and Palmira flowers. There were many more religious deities, but Roger wasn't familiar with the rest. Finally, looming over the entirety of the bath was a magnificent stain-glass window with the image of the Goddess Apris in its center. The strategic placement of the window against the sunlight made it seem like Apris was radiating a kind of divine glow, surrounded by her angels. He couldn't help but look at those angels a little longer.

' _You're an angel, ya must be… Palmira sent me an angel…'_

Roger frowned, crimsoning at the memory of his own words. Had he really told Fayt that? How embarrassing…

The faintest wisps of steam rose from the waters and Roger removed the towel from his head to pat it against his cheeks. Getting pretty warm… maybe he should – his eyes darted about the empty baths mischievously – _Nah!_ He dunked his whole head underwater and resurfaced, flicking his ears to get any excess water out. Then, he started splashing around the giant bath, wetting the surrounding marble floors, giggling to himself. He brought his hands together and was just about to see if he could squirt some water high up into Palmira's basin, when an amused voice stopped him.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

Fayt padded across the now wet marble, his boots removed and his usual charming smile set upon his face. Roger swam towards the edge where the man stood.

"Come on in! The water's great," he grinned in return, only to stutter and regret his forwardness immediately when Fayt turned around to remove his shirt.

As the figure-hugging material slipped away to reveal more skin, Roger couldn't help but stare shamelessly at the swordsman in a mixture of desire and envy. A broad, muscular back that rippled as he removed his clothes; a trim waist; toned arms – not too big and not too skinny – All in all, Fayt, having just come into manhood a month ago, was _really_ doing a pretty swell job maintaining that physique all young men and girls would kill for. He wondered if he too would be able to look this good one fine day… well, he'd have to get _taller_ first and then -

And then the pants were gone, and all Roger's brain could process were the words, "Nice ass".

Blushing, he lowered his gaze, only to grow frustrated at himself for reacting that way. It wasn't like he hadn't _seen_ a real man's body before… he _was_ a guy himself after all. That, and he had already seen Fayt spar shirtless _twice_ , and felt his strong heartbeat beneath that firm chest when they had kissed for the first time. Plus the guy was his _boyfriend_ for crying out loud. He had rights. He could look. Fayt was his and he'd be seeing and touching that body of his a lot more anyway.

That thought unfortunately made Roger even more embarrassed and frustrated than before. He'd _never_ viewed Fayt under such a promiscuous light before; he'd only ever _fallen_ for the guy because of how cool, brave, witty and masterful he was in combat. He _admired_ him…

"Canon ball!"

Fayt jumped into the bath, drenching the Menodix completely. Roger's ears flicked madly, his wet hair flat against his scalp. He glared at the older male.

"What are ya tryin' ta do, ya dummy?! _Drown_ me?"

Fayt surfaced, laughing. "Sorry, I forgot you were – he raised his hand and lowered it into the water – you know."

"Grrrr! Just ya wait, mister high-and-mighty. I'm gonna be taller than ya someday!"

"I was just kidding." Fayt swam towards his little lover, trapping him against the wall as he lovingly gazed into the boy's fiery eyes. He dipped his head and bumped noses with Roger. "Besides, I like you just the way you are."

Roger huffed, but even he had to admit that he couldn't stay angry with Fayt for long. He placed his hands on the man's strong forearms, unable to stem the excited flutter of his heart. Was this really happening? Were they really… together now? Though he acted carefree about the whole thing, this was new to him. Sure, he liked to look at pretty girls, but he never actually considered dating anyone. Relationships were the last thing on his mind, especially when adventure took precedence. And then there was the war…

But here he was, dating an engineer from Greeton who he barely knew for more than three, four days. By no means was Fayt a girl – heck, the guy was as real a man as any man could be, and seeing as he was a real man himself, he figured them being together made perfect sense. But still…

"Hey, Fayt? Are ya sure 'bout this, 'bout us?"

"Roger, I've never been more sure about anything else in my whole life." He anxiously sought Roger's gaze. "Are you… are you having second thoughts?"

Roger shook his head frantically. "No! It's just…" he bit his lip, wondering how to phrase his words. "My people are sorta ok with this kinda stuff. In my village, guys gettin' together ain't uncommon… I'm just wonderin' how _ya_ feel 'bout this, Fayt."

Fayt's expression softened into one of understanding. So, Roger was asking him how his people would regard their relationship, if it would seem wrong. Well, for one thing, if Professor Leon and Claude's secret affair suggested anything, it was that Earth, despite its sophistication and technological advancement, was still far less open to homosexual relationships. In addition, the idea of consummating with a humanoid was an increasingly rare practice, which would explain the sheer lack of humanoids at all apart from their own planet of origin. So, was there anything wrong with his and Roger's relationship? Well, he could think of many things: their gender for one thing, their race, how their relationship itself was clear violation of the UP3, not to mention their age difference… though Fayt figured that wouldn't be an issue after a few more years.

"How do I feel about this?" he echoed before cupping the back of Roger's neck to pull the boy flush against him. "Frankly, Roger, I don't give a damn."

His lips crashed onto his young lover's, massaging them expertly with his own. The skin was soft, yet slightly chapped, much like he remembered from their make out session the previous night. Gods, how he _loved_ this boy.

Roger squirmed in his hold and moaned loudly, parting his lips to grant Fayt's eager tongue entrance. Granted, they were both new to relationships and neither had any substantial experience in the opposite or same sex before, but damn him if he was going to lose to Fayt just because the guy was older and taller!

Roger fought for dominance as he climbed onto Fayt's lap, using his weight to anchor the swordsman against the bath wall as he devoured his mouth like a starving man. Their previous night of kissing and experimenting had it benefits and it didn't take long for Roger to turn the tables and leave his boyfriend moaning in bliss when he drew his bottom lip into his mouth to suck on it fervently. His tail wagged excitedly underwater, pleased to have evoked such a response.

Meanwhile, Fayt felt like he was in heaven, euphoria clouding his mind. He was so far gone, he just let the humanoid take charge, enjoying the pleasure the boy was giving him. While Roger had his hands firmly planted on his shoulders, Fayt's began to wander beneath the water, sliding from the child's waist to run them over the soft curve of his ass, up and down his supple thighs, his back… _anywhere_ he could touch, really. It was intoxicating. The smoothness of Roger's virgin flesh reminded him once again that the boy hadn't undergone puberty yet, and so it took everything in his willpower to hold back and not venture into more _pleasurable_ territories, no matter how much he wanted to. He liked to think that he had at least _some_ self-restraint…

Until he felt Roger's tail rubbing against him, and _oh gods…_

Fayt broke the kiss and practically shoved the confused Menodix away.

"That's enough. We should dry up and get dressed."

"But – "

"Roger, we're making out in front of _religious idols_. I don't think things can get any _more_ inappropriate."

"But earlier ya said – " And that was when Roger looked down into the crystal-clear waters and felt his cheeks heat up. Oh… _Oh._

A few seconds of silence later and Roger was back on Fayt's lap. The swordsman was absolutely mortified.

" _What_ are you doing?" he hissed, fighting down the blush on his cheeks.

Didn't the Menodix _know_ the sort of effect he had on him? The mischievous grin on the boy's face _really_ wasn't helping and that damned tail was _still_ rubbing against him, and…

"I can think of a way ta make things even _more_ inappropriate…" Roger teased seductively. Fayt felt all calm rationality leave him at that instant.

Fuck it, he had permission.

He leaned down and bit hard into one of Roger's furry ears, making the boy cry out in both surprise and pain. Gods, it _hurt_ – but then that hand rubbing up and down his tail felt _so good_ , and when Fayt grasped its base and teasingly ran his fingers on the underside, the pain he felt earlier suddenly didn't matter anymore. Roger squirmed in his lover's hold, but every time he tried to jerk away, those teeth held him in place. He felt the sharp sting, but with Fayt increasing the pace of his stroking to a maddening level, he was powerless. Roger clung onto the man for dear life, trembling, panting, and moaning the swordsman's name in delirium. What was Fayt doing to him? He hadn't touched himself this way before… or in _any_ way for that matter. Everywhere felt hot. So hot…

And then, the pleasure stopped.

Roger gazed up at Fayt through half-lidded eyes, cheeks thoroughly flushed. He keened in want.

"Wha… What was that…?" Whatever Fayt just did, felt _amazing_ and he didn't want him to stop. He got a low chuckle in return.

"A lucky guess," Fayt breathed against his ear before shifting slightly. "And it looks like it did the trick."

Roger felt something hard and thick bump against him and to his mortification; he realized he was hard too. He squeaked in shock when he felt a pair of hands sneak under his ass to grasp hard at his cheeks.

Fayt lifted Roger out of the water effortlessly and placed him on the edge of the bath before surging up to claim the boy's delectable lips once more. What started out as an innocent lip lock soon turned passionate, as Fayt alternated between biting and sucking on the Menodix's already pouty, kiss-swollen lips. A strangled sound escaped the confines of Roger's throat as he fought against the older male and tried desperately to keep up at the same time. Fayt was being really rough with him and it _hurt_ , but it also felt _really good_ and he was so confused, and…

" _Nngh!"_ He threw back his head and shut his eyes in absolute bliss when Fayt's mouth latched onto his neck, biting and sucking the area just above his pulse point.

Nails dug into his shoulders. Fayt pulled the gasping boy flush against him, so tight that Roger could feel the older male's heartbeat against his own flesh, their passion mingling as one. Fayt's lips trailed down Roger's body in open-mouthed kisses, loving how smooth and toned the boy's flesh felt under his ministrations. His tongue snaked out and flicked a small pink nipple, which earned him another one of the boy's delicious, addictive sounds.

"F-Fayt..."

"You wanted this," Fayt growled against his throat while Roger did nothing but murmur the words, "Please, please, please…" over and over. He didn't even know what he was begging for. All he knew was that he never felt anything quite like this before and he wanted, needed _more._

Thankfully, Fayt knew what he wanted.

He kissed his way down the humanoid's sweet flesh, relishing in his lover's ceaseless moans. Roger arched his back in abandonment. By then, Fayt was halfway out the water while Roger lay on the marble floor in a boneless heap, grasping at Fayt's hair as the man went lower, shuddering, panting, begging over and over for more, for him to stop, for him to quit teasing him, for release…

Then, Fayt – cruel, merciless Fayt – blatantly avoided the humanoid's throbbing shaft to plant greedy kisses on his inner thighs. Roger wanted to scream and kick his stupid boyfriend in the head, but was caught off guard when Fayt suddenly grabbed his thighs, placed his legs over his shoulders, and lowered his face to lick teasingly at his tight, virgin hole. Roger's eyes flew open and he immediately covered his mouth with his hand, face burning from humiliation. Wha… What the heck was the guy doing?! It felt weird… and it made him feel dirty… But when Fayt's tongue penetrated the tight ring, Roger allowed himself an unmanly squeak, toes curling from the pleasure. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and every inch of him felt _so hot_ as he lay pliant and shuddering while Fayt had his way with him.

Roger felt the wet muscle swirl around his tight hole, breath hitching every time it licked at nudged at his entrance. Thrust in and out. Moved up to trail teasingly over his tight little balls. Descended once more to resume eating him out… And then, with one final slurp, Fayt pulled away to smirk down at the twitching mass of fur and hot flesh beneath him.

"You ready?" he whispered seductively as he lazily stroked Roger's smooth chest.

Roger's eyes darted down to his lover's impressive length in panic. He wasn't stupid; he knew what came next. Those books he and his friends had sneaked away with when they were younger, taught him as much. But…

"N-No way! Ya won't fit!"

Fayt placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt.

"Roger, what do you take me for? A pervert?"

Roger in fact wanted to accuse his boyfriend that yes he was indeed a pervert. So what if the swordsman was handsome and sweet on the surface? Beneath all that charm, Fayt was nothing but a big pervert… who apparently had a thing for his ears and tail, now that he thought about it. However, before he could let Fayt have a piece of his mind, the man grabbed his tail and tugged it in a way that drove him _crazy_ with want. All intelligible words died on Roger's lips. Fayt let out a dark chuckle, voice dripping with desire.

"I have something else in mind…" He guided the Menodix's tail to nudge its tip at his sweet, willing hole. "Something we will both enjoy _very_ much…"

And then something exploded behind his vision when Roger felt his own tail enter him.

_Oh God..._

The wriggling appendage nudged something deep inside him, something that made sparks dance before his eyes. Fayt didn't even need to do any work. The tail just kept going on its own, thrusting and twisting mercilessly, fucking the young humanoid senseless. Roger's eyes rolled with pleasure. Drool pooled at the corner of his mouth. _So good, so good..._ and with his own tail...

Fayt grinned evilly. "Who's the pervert now?"

Roger's resolve crumbled. He shut his eyes and moaned in rapture, uncaring if anyone else heard him or if the stone goddesses around them sent him to hell for this.

* * *

"We've tried everything, but we just can't seem to get it to – "

The door to the Runological Weapons Laboratory slammed open and four heads turned to face the source of the disturbance. Roger stood at the entranceway with a sour expression on his face, his clothes disheveled as if they had been thrown on hurriedly… which pretty much had been the case really. Fayt had left him in the palace baths to bask in the afterglow of what was probably the best make out session of his young humanoid life, while _he_ sashayed out of the room smug and thoroughly satisfied. That perverted jerk.

Roger took a step into the lab and winced. His ass _hurt like hell._

"Glad you could finally join us, tiny," said Cliff with a smirk. "We were wondering when you'd show up."

Discretely, the Menodix shot a none-too-innocent Fayt an annoyed glare, but soon dropped it. He'd give his boyfriend a piece of his mind later.

"Lost track of time. My bad." He took his place amongst the group. "So… what's up?"

"Roger, this is Dion Landers," Nel introduced. "He's Chief Researcher of the Runological Weapons Development for Aquaria."

A bespectacled young man with shoulder-length black hair stepped forward and bowed in greeting. Like all runologists in the kingdom, he had on their customary black-and-white robes.

"It is my pleasure to meet you, young Huxley." He straightened up with a polite smile. "I am Dion and as I have told your friends earlier, I am honored to work with you and the Greeton engineers."

"Howdy!"

This man seemed really nice, rather effeminate too. He looked around Fayt's age and it was a wonder how someone so young landed himself such a top-level position in Aquarian society. Also, Roger couldn't help but get this nagging feeling that he had seen him before. Come to think of it, this Dion guy sort of resembled that little boy in a few of Ameena's pictures… _Nah!_ Those were painted in Airyglyph. It was probably a coincidence.

"Shall we get started then?" Dion indicated at the prototype – a large, steel contraption resembling a canon, except more sophisticated in its design. Bending down, he removed the panel, which concealed the mechanism's interior.

"As I was saying, we can't seem to get the weapon running for more than three seconds. As soon as we power her up – he snapped his fingers – shut down."

"I see…"

Fayt crouched down and scrutinized the design construct. Everything seemed fine… the weapon wasn't that different from most electronic devices on Earth really. In fact, he was quite impressed with such levels of technology considering the civilization level of this planet. It didn't take him long to pinpoint the issue.

"Hey, Cliff. Look at this."

The blonde peered over Fayt's shoulder and frowned. " _There's_ your problem – he gestured – your conductor's fried."

Dion pushed his glasses up his nose nervously. "Y-Yes, it has always resulted that way. We believe it's due to an overlook in the weapon's design."

"The design's fine, just your conductor." Fayt rose to his feet to regard the researcher. "What's it made of?"

"Aluminum."

Cliff shook his head. "There we go."

"Have you tried using copper?"

Dion blinked slowly. "Copper…? _Of course!_ Copper would make the perfect conductor."

"Copper alone ain't gonna cut it, guys," said Roger, who was nosing through the weapon's interior. Absently, he heard Dion commenting that they "never could find anyone small enough to pilot the thing" but chose to ignore it because _he was going to grow bigger one day, dammit!_

"I'm guessin' yer runology's sorta like our magic, and that's a natural form of energy – it's wild." He pointed at a few valves that had corroded. "With a whole lota energy passin' through this thing at one go, it'll still overheat the weapon without a proper coolin' system, good conductor or no."

He folded his arms and beamed at them proudly. "I'm in the middle of designin' a portable canon myself, so I know."

Fayt and Nel stared at the child, wholly impressed. Even Cliff had on a rare look of approval on his face. Though that portable canon of his sounded quite worrisome… and dangerous… and insane…

"Looks like someone out-geeked you," whispered Cliff into Fayt's ear.

"Shut up."

"That _does_ make a lot of sense!" marveled Dion, eyes shining. Clearly the advices offered by these three men were nothing short of invaluable. "Roger, was it?"

"The one and only!"

"I would like to look at your blueprints for that 'portable canon' of yours. Perhaps we could improve on the cooling system for the runological weapons based on your designs."

Nel voiced her approval. "Well enough," then she turned to Fayt and Cliff. "The Kirlsa mines are rich in its supply of copper. We can gather a team and extract about a ton of copper ores from there."

"Sounds like a plan."

"But," she cautioned, "Since our escape from Kirlsa, Airyglyph has beefed up security around those parts – more guards, more weapons, eyes and ears everywhere."

"A welcome party! That's more like it."

Nel shot Cliff an exasperated stare. She still questioned what she saw in this guy till this moment. Then again, a little positivity went a long way. Though she had a feeling Cliff's enthusiasm was bordering on suicidal.

"I'm comin' too!"

Three pairs of eyes looked down to the Menodix, who had already unsheathed his axe in his excitement. Fayt gave him a worried stare as he lowered himself to the boy's level.

"Roger, didn't you hear Nel? There are more soldiers patrolling the area." He shook his head. "No can do. You're staying here to help Dion. Your ears and tail are dead giveaways and your safety is my priority."

"But – "

Fayt grabbed Roger's chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted it up so that he could meet the boy's stare.

"I almost lost you once and I _won't_ let it happen again. Stay here where I know you'll be safe – please."

That was when Roger realized things were different now. Fayt _cared_ deeply for him and now that they had accepted each other as boyfriends, they had to draw the line of danger at some point. Fayt had practically tortured himself with self-loathing after he had failed to protect him back at the Kirlsa Training Facility. He wasn't going to do that to his boyfriend again. Plus there were benefits to splitting the work – they would be more productive if he stayed to help Dion, while the rest went to gather the raw materials.

He gave in with a sigh.

"Fine, ya win." He went on tiptoe to give his boyfriend a peck on the lips. "Just promise ta come back alive, or I swear I'm gonna dance on yer grave."

Fayt chuckled. "Cross my heart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two Fayt/Roger moments in a row? I'm on a roll! So, for all you Fayt/Roger shippers out there, this one's for you! I hope the sexual scene was alright for you guys (hmm define 'alright'). It was my first time writing something like that, so hopefully it was a decent attempt. Also, if you guys were wondering where I got the 'portable canon' reference from, it's Roger's in-game "Shield and Canon" attack skill.
> 
> Thanks for the hits and kudos!


	12. Setting Fire to The Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was quite challenging to write and I had to go over it countless of times to get everything right. I hope the delivery doesn't fall short of expectations. On another note, I wrote a cute Albel/Roger one-shot during my travels titled "Meet the Huxleys". Do check it out if you're interested.
> 
> The playlist for "The Stars Told Me So" is available on my profile! Feel free to give it a listen if you're interested in getting the overall feel of this story.
> 
> Accompanying track for this chapter: "The Phoenix" by Fall Out Boy.

Red.

The sky was like a cauldron of molten lava, dark grey smoke clouds mingled between the folds. It burned the canvas. The last time Clair looked up and saw the sky, it was a beautiful, clear blue, with not a single cloud in sight. Earlier, young children had been playing tag along the dirt streets, which were now covered with debris and the bodies of fallen comrades and innocent townsfolk alike. As she stood there barking orders to her men, she could still hear the echoes. The pitter-patter of tiny feet. The children's laughter and their smiles, but decaying fast with every explosion and scream.

Just an ordinary day.

Blue.

Then, canons.

None of them were prepared for Airyglyph's attack. None believed the enemy would assault Aquaria territory without support from their heavy cavalry. But they were wrong and by the time they realized they were up against the Storm Brigade, everything was too late. The bells. The soldiers and runologists taking position. The citizens shrieking in their houses seconds before they were destroyed.

All too late.

Steel clashed against steel. Another house went down. Screams, which had pervaded the air in deafening echoes, gradually faded into final shudders of life. In this sea of chaos, it was hard to tell which side was winning.

"Soldiers, battle stations! Runologists, take out the canons! Let's move, move, move!"

It was a blood fest. Light erupted in disarrayed patches across the battlefield. By then, no house was left standing, not even the Runological Headquarters. Fireballs and deadly icicles hurtled towards the canons, exploding steel, splintering wood. Armor froze from the magic and Aquarian soldiers hacked their way through petrified bodies of ice. Lightning zipped through the chaos, singeing Glyphian soldiers, uprooting earth.

Barely twenty left standing, but they were winning.

"Retreat! _Retreat!"_

When the last Storm Brigade soldier fled Arias, loud cheers erupted from the village survivors. Aquarian soldiers thrust their weapons into the air. Tynave and Farleen slumped forward as they fought to catch their breaths. Their excessive use of runology really took its toll on them. Clair allowed herself a small smile of triumph.

_We won._

But their moment of victory was short-lived.

"Incoming!"

Meteors rained down from the skies. Streaks of bright yellow beams cut through air and solid matter like lasers. Cold winds blanketed the battlefield, freezing and rupturing weapons. The earth shook and shifted beneath their feet. For what felt like hours, the sky remained a devastating red with shades of grey and purple leaking into the burning canvas like a gapping wound. The village of Arias was under attack once more, but this time, salvation had deserted them. Fires burned and ash fell upon the land like snow.

Within minutes, mounds of stone and earth were stacked and piled, making the once picturesque riverfront village appear as nothing more than a wasteland. The dirt streets were ruptured and blood flowed through the cracks like veins. Bodies lay strewn about like driftwood after a flood.

Smoke filled her lungs as Clair struggled to her elbows, crawling her way out from under an arch of two fallen pillars. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She coughed.

"Guys…"

But she received no response. How anyone could survive _that_ was a miracle after all.

In the distance, dark figures emerged from the flames, each one draped in robes and armed with staves. They were chanting in unison, in tongues unfamiliar to the everyday ear. And that was when she saw it: Humanoids – all of them. The legendary Elementalists of the Sanmite militia.

The Republic had chosen sides.

Armored Featherfolkian descended from the clouds, flanking their fellow mages, helmets obscuring each of their faces. So, that was where the yellow beams came from. The Winged Cavalry – Sanmite's aerial assault team. Clair counted about fifteen of them. Each one stared down at her dispassionately, unmoved.

The chanting reached a crescendo and a small wolf-boy, no older than a child, raised his broomstick in the air. The other Elementalists followed suit. Power flowed from their bodies, into their weapons, and down into the earth's core. The ground in front of them ripped apart and out emerged a pair of great golems – one made of fire and one of ice. Slowly, the creatures turned to face her. The chanting grew louder. Clair shut her eyes, defeat weighing heavily on her soul.

"No…"

In the background, a bell chimed.

Then, everything went still.

* * *

"That's the last of them." Cliff dusted his hands off the remaining copper bits.

"All good on my end." Fayt emerged from behind the cart. "That should give Dion and Roger plenty to work with for the weapons."

With an affirmative, Nel ordered her team of soldiers to begin transport of the copper back to Aquios. After prior scouting, they were fortune enough to discover an old mining facility that linked Kirlsa to the royal city. In the past, the track was used to transport copper ores from Airyglyph to Aquaria as part of the two kingdoms' resource pact, but the facility had been abandoned shortly after the war started. With miners becoming soldiers overnight, there were simply not enough people to work the mines and fuel Airyglyph's economy.

Fayt watched the four Aquarian soldiers disappear down the tunnel with the mine cart with a disconcerted frown. "Do you think they'll be alright?"

Earlier, their party encountered a slew of brass dragons within the mines. Now, apart from those air dragons that had chased them from Airyglyph post prison break, Fayt had never really seen a _real_ dragon up close before. The only times he found himself facing up to any dragon at all, were in his simulation games, so it was actually pretty cool. That is, until the thing breathed a bunch of pins and needles and petrified his whole arm.

It was a good thing Nel was a healer too; otherwise he was sure their group would be as good as dead. "Dragons are generally peaceful creatures unless provoked," had been her words. Apparently, someone forgot to tell the dragons that. Because he was pretty sure getting assaulted left, right, front, and back by a bunch of vicious brass dragons _did not_ sound very peace loving at all. Quite the opposite really.

"I'm sure they'll be fine."

"Yeah. How's the arm, kid?"

"It's nothing," he replied, turning to the Klausian. " _You_ were the one who got his whole body petrified, weren't you?"

"That's because he went charging in _after_ I told him to be careful." Nel shook her head like a mother who didn't know what to do with her retarded child. "Honestly, Cliff, if you have a death wish, you should have told me before I rescued you from Airyglyph."

"Hey, I _was_ careful," he defended. "I _carefully_ accessed the situation and took them down in the most effective way possible. I guess you can say I'm the most careful man around!"

"By charging in and yelling at the top of your lungs?"

"Sure! It worked, didn't it?"

Fayt sighed in surrender. Never mind. Arguing with Cliff was like arguing with a rock. That, and every time he shared conversations like this with the Klausian, he felt himself get dumber by the minute. Cliff was hardly worth the steady depletion of his brain cells. Still, something about those dragons _did_ bother him. Call him crazy, but he could have sworn they seemed almost… _possessed._

"I wonder what could've provoked them though?" he wondered out loud.

Nel cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't think anyone else was in the mines save us," replied Fayt, a suspicious edge to his voice. "So, _something_ must have set them off. There was just… so much blind rage in them. Are dragons normally like that?"

"Hmm, now that you mention it, no." A similar frown crossed Nel's face. "But they're extremely sensitive creatures. After all, dragons are symbols of the land and earth."

"What about emotions?"

"Possibly. But I've never heard of dragons having emotional connections with humans before."

"Are we done here?" Cliff folded his arms, eyeing the two in question. "I'd like to stay and chat about overgrown geckos myself, but I think we have a tight schedule to keep."

"Right, my apologies." Nel indicated at the tunnels from which they came. "Shall we?"

Inwardly, Fayt groaned. Where was an extra mining cart when you needed it? He _did not_ want to grope helplessly through darkness for the second time that day, get attacked by annoying cavern bats or other hungry monsters that lurked in the shadows. At least they didn't have to worry about any more brass dragons. Still, he was feeling less than enthused about the return trip. Thankfully, Cliff had some foresight to leave those torches burning to help guide them back to the entrance. It didn't take long for them to find their way.

Fayt stepped out into the light, his boots kicking up gravel on the Bequerel Mountain Path. The sky was a swirl of red, purple, and orange watercolor. He brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare of the setting sun. Had they really taken that long to harvest all that copper? Absently, his thoughts wandered to his boyfriend. He wondered what Roger was doing now…

"Fayt, look out!"

Cliff shoved him out of the way just as a blade penetrated his chest, the sword hilt-deep and cutting dangerously close to his heart. Blood oozed out of the wound and dribbled down the weapon's edge in rivulets. Fayt sat frozen in shock. Nel screamed.

"Cliff _– NO!"_

And just as quickly as it entered, someone yanked the weapon out. Cliff crumpled onto the ground. He choked on his own blood. It dyed his fingers and stained the gravel beneath his knees a deep scarlet. Nel was by his side in an instant, cradling his head between her hands, desperately trying to get him to stay conscious.

"No – look at me. Cliff, please…" The blonde coughed. Blood splattered across her cheek. He managed a small grin through his pain.

"S-See? I'm careful…" he struggled between gasps. "Careful in making sure… you guys stay safe…"

Nel immediately saw red.

" _You."_ Her eyes honed in on the tall, malicious figure standing a few ways off.

The assassin regarded them with calm indifference, his bloodied katana slung over his shoulder carelessly. His gauntlet shone under the sunlight, claws twitching in anticipation for the kill. Vermillion met narrowed violet in a deadly stare off. The winds picked up around them, making the guy's hair bindings dance in the current.

Nel drew her daggers, her words a deadly whisper, "You'll _pay_ for what you did to him, Albel."

A cruel smirk snaked its way across the captain's lips. Albel lowered his katana and blood dripped from its tip. He licked his lips, eyes shining in perverse glee. One down one to go. Oh how he _loved_ this.

"Let's see the maggot try."

" _Yah!"_ Nel surged forward like a canon ball, but Albel met her speed and strength par on par. She was relentless though, slashing him with her daggers in swift, precise strikes that would normally leave an opponent down for the kill.

Unfortunately, this was Albel the Wicked and the Glyphian swordsman did more than counter her moves. He anticipated them beforehand.

Pitiful. The Aquarian spy was an open book. He could read her emotions and every action on her pretty little face. And to think all he had to do was make her mad by harming that foolish barbarian. _Bah!_ This was too easy.

Nel went at him again, but with a well-timed counter slash, Albel knocked the daggers out of her grip before slamming his elbow against her jaw. The force of the hit sent Nel flying, but she back-flipped in mid-air and landed on her feet. Albel never granted her even a second of recovery though, dashing at her once again, claw at ready. He swiped but she jerked her head back, the sharp talons slicing off tiny strands of bright red hair.

Weaponless, Nel jumped back and extended her arm in a grand wave. Dark green mist gathered in her palm.

"Poison cloud!"

But Albel dodged the attack effortlessly and got behind her faster than she could withdraw her hand. The poison mist touched nothing but thin air, quickly dissipating.

Albel grinned wickedly. Well, the Aquarian had spirit he gave her that. But when it came to speed and one-on-one combat, he was unmatched. An eerie green glow gathered in the palm of his claw and he thrust his hand out. The ball of energy shot out and exploded against Nel's back, sending her flying forward and tumbling across the rough mountain path. Watching her struggle to her feet was almost as painful as fighting her. He closed the distance between them.

"You're not who I'm after, worm," he sneered down at her, raising his katana. "So, do me a favor and stay out of my way. _Permanently._ "

He brought the blade down, but was intercepted by a sword. The clash of solid metal rang through the air as the weapons and their users struggled for dominance. Nel cracked her eyes open to gaze up at the figure that stood between them, his back turned to her.

"Fayt!" she gasped in relief.

With a grunt, Fayt pushed away Albel's blade, causing the Glyphian to stumble back momentarily. He stood protectively in front of Nel, his long sword grasped tightly in both hands, never once taking his eyes off his opponent.

"Go heal Cliff! I'll handle this."

Not needing to be told twice, Nel dashed off to their fallen companion. Albel rolled his eyes before shooting Fayt a nasty smirk.

"Oh, _please –_ not you again." His eyes raked the younger swordsman's frame, bored and unimpressed. "Didn't I tell you? Easy wins have never been my style." The vermillion pools narrowed into a leer. "I see that _precious_ little fool of yours isn't here. Did you really think leaving him in Aquois would keep him safe, especially from me?"

"I won't let you or Airyglyph have him!"

A soft white glow emitted from Fayt's hands, and Albel soon found himself staring at the guy's sword, which was now encased in a thick layer of ice. Its edges were sharp and threatening, jagged like a saw. The blade gleamed in the light; ice-cool vapors rose from its freezing surface. Fayt raised his weapon with one hand, pointing its icy tip threateningly at the Glyphian.

"Fair warning: I'm not the same man you saw at the facility, Albel."

Albel frowned, annoyed at the younger man's sudden spark of confidence.

"Humph. Do you expect me to believe that you turned professional overnight?"

"No, but I have someone important to protect, and I promised him I'd come home."

Fayt shifted gracefully into an attack stance. His glare was terrifying, his composure firm.

"If you want Roger, you'll have to go through me first."

Albel raised his weapon and passed his tongue leisurely across the blade's surface, lapping up the blood. A new wave of hunger coursed through his veins - one that could only be satisfied by this amateur swordsman dead at his feet.

"Oh, I plan to."

They kicked off, the two rivals racing towards each other as their blades met in a deadly clash of power versus force. The ferocity of their attack created a vacuum at the point of contact and they leapt away simultaneously. Albel was quick to recover and made to deliver a slash at his opponent from bottom-up, but Fayt denied him the advantage by avoiding the deadly attack altogether with a well timed back step. The blade cut through nothing but still air with a sharp and loud 'whoosh!'

Fayt saw an opening, and faster than the eye could blink he delivered a clean slice down Albel's abdomen. His opponent's reaction was immediate. Albel jerked away, his eyes widening a fraction in disbelief. Fortunately for him, he had pulled away in time. The ice blade nipped his skin. The cut was deep and he could feel the beginnings of frostbite, but not serious enough for the effect to spread. It unsettled him. No one had come this close to wounding him in battle before.

This guy was fast.

"Not so much of an 'easy win' after all, huh?" Fayt smirked, inwardly pleased that he managed to mar Albel's pretty-boy appearance. It was the kind of stare that made Albel's blood boil. This worm got cocky way too fast. As far as he was concerned, their battle had only just begun. His grip on his katana tightened.

"Maggot… you will _not_ strike me again."

Albel faked a charge and Fayt bought it. He lunged towards the captain so fast that even he was surprised at the speed he was moving at. First, strike the body. Then when his opponent was winded, strike the head. The momentum and force, coupled with the thick layer of ice around his blade should be enough to crack the man's skull, if not knock him out. At least, that had been the plan, but Albel shifted his stance and drew his blade so fast it almost took Fayt's head off. With that, Albel effortlessly deflected both blows simultaneously and threw him into the air.

Quickly catching his balance with an airborne kick off the blade, Fayt pushed off in an attack stance from above and with a cry, swung three, four times. But no matter how fast he was, Albel was always faster and it seemed impossible to penetrate the captain's defense. It was not only frustrating, but also ridiculous. The guy had _no_ defensive equipment at all and was only using _one sword_ , which was significantly slender compared to his, not to mention void of enchantment unlike his own ice blade. Fayt's confidence was quickly shifting to trepidation. How strong was this guy?

Albel blocked all hits deftly, swinging a full strike towards Fayt who caught it with his own sword. The two pushed roughly against each other, held at a temporary standstill. Fayt was breathing hard, having pushed his body beyond his normal fighting capacity, but was more than ready to keep going if he had to. Roger flashed through his mind momentarily, fueling him with determination.

_I won't die here._

And then, the worst thing that could happen did. His spell wore off and the ice melted away, reducing the sword's size and attack capacity significantly. Albel seized his chance, pulled back and swung so fast that he crushed the weapon down to the ground before using the momentum to gain traction, slamming his body into Fayt. The sheer power of the Glyphian captain's full body slam sent the smaller man flying a good distance before falling onto the ground, knocking all breath out of him. Pain seeped into Fayt's ribs and lungs as he gasped for air.

But Albel didn't let up, the katana smashing the ground where he had been moments ago. Rolling a distance away, Fayt picked himself up to his feet and held his sword at ready… only to realize his hands were empty with his trusty weapon lying a good distance behind the advancing captain. Albel didn't even bother with his katana. He sent a powerful kick to a defenseless Fayt's stomach. Fayt slammed against the rocky mountain wall, sliding down in a heap on the gravel path. His body gave a violent shudder. He coughed, blood trickling down the corner of his lips. This was turning ugly, fast.

The katana to his head was clear indication that his opponent was as unmerciful as the stories said. It didn't matter how much faster he was compared to Cliff or Nel, or any other player in his simulation games – Albel's speed was _incredible_ and was way out of his league. This was a guy who had completely mastered his offensive and defensive range. There was at least a decade of experience there that Fayt didn't have. There was no wasted movement or strike or position. Every sidestep; every block was precise right down to the centimeter. Albel wasn't even breathing hard. It was a horribly bitter pill to swallow.

Fayt's body dropped to the floor completely, but even in defeat Albel granted him no rest. The Glyphian stopped in front him and grabbed the front of his shirt with his good hand, forcing Fayt's tired eyes on him.

"Once a maggot, always a maggot." The smirk on Albel's lips never looked crueler. "After I dispose of you, your partner, and that Aquarian spy, your little lover waiting in Aquois would be in for a nasty surprise. Don't worry; I'll take _good_ care of him. Maybe better than you."

"B-Bastard…"

He flexed the fingers of his clawed hand, the talons glinting sinisterly under the light.

"But first…" he trailed off, the tips of his claws brushing over Fayt's chest. "Allow me to deal with that broken heart."

Albel's claws latched onto his chest and dug deep. Before Fayt could even scream, he withdrew his hand and ripped out… a charm?

_The Maiden of Irisa._

Fayt could have cried in relief. He offered a silent thanks to Ameena for watching over him.

The bewildered frown on Albel's face could only be described as comical.

"… What the – _Oof!"_

Fayt head-butted him and used that temporary distraction to struggle to his feet. Albel rubbed his throbbing forehead, cursing so colorfully it would make any mother cry.

"Worm!" He lashed out with his weapon, but at such close proximity Fayt was able to catch the blade between his fingers. The skin bled, but the pain he felt was nothing compared to the world of hurt he was going to make Albel pay for.

Though he was weaponless, there was still a trick or two up his sleeve – something he never thought he had to rely on apart from his lessons in school. A bright blue glow enveloped his hand before it exploded in a burst of symbols. Ice covered the entire surface of Albel's katana and with a swift strike Fayt broke the blade into two. Albel's grip around the hilt of his now useless katana shook.

'What… what the hell just happened?' His mind was reeling. What were those strange symbols? It wasn't runology… something more powerful; faster; better…

Staring at the remnants of his precious weapon in complete shock, Albel's head wasn't really in the game and it left him wide open for Fayt's next attack.

"Earth glaive!"

And the next moment he looked up, a giant wall of earth smacked him dead in the face. The force of the blow sent him flying, only to land and roll painfully on the rocky mountain path some paces away. He coughed, struggling to his feet. There were tears all over his uniform and cuts across his exposed skin. It hurt, but the humiliation stung more than his injuries. Albel stumbled forward.

_I won't lose._

Green energy crackled in the palm of his claw and he was just about to hurl it at his opponent, when he felt the earth beneath his feet creep around his ankles, anchoring him down. That threw his momentum off and his shot missed, the energy blast sailing past Fayt's ear and striking the mountain wall behind him. Albel struggled against his earthly shackles, panicking. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The strange blue symbols continued to swim around Fayt's arm in a circle. He lowered his hand and they dissipated. What the hell was he doing? A large part of him was kicking himself over the head for showing _Albel_ of all people, mercy, but a small yet honorable part of his soul couldn't bring himself to finish the job. No matter the cruelty and chaos surrounding this man's life, Roger had treated the captain kindly and Albel had responded humanely in kind, albeit exclusively to the child. Fayt didn't know what made Albel change his mind so drastically, but he knew that if he murdered the guy in cold blood, Roger would probably never forgive him. Even if this guy was a friggin' _murdering psychopath._

"If you promise to turn back, I'll put this matter behind me and you're free to go," Fayt reasoned with the captain calmly.

However, Albel had no patience for mercy or any of his rival's self-righteous notions of justice.

"I don't make deals with maggots," he spat, disgust, self-loathing, and humiliation burning deep within his core. It spread like wildfire, consuming him from the inside out.

_I wont lose. I can't lose._

A bright red aura rose from his person in faint wisps. He felt hot all over, like a fever that was gradually taking over his body; yet he remained oblivious to the sudden change in spirit. Taking the sight before him as a sign of aggression, Fayt raised his arm once more, a dark scowl upon his face. Light danced around his hand. He had to admire Albel's pride, but he already warned him of the consequences and his sympathies towards his rival only went so far. It was then Fayt realized he really intended to _kill_ this guy, but for some morbid reason, found himself absolutely _fine_ with it.

Time to end this.

"I'm sorry, but I'm fighting for someone I love deeply," he said humbly and without batting an eyelid, Fayt let the captain have it.

Lightning exploded from his fingertips and shot straight towards the Glyphian, enveloping his body in a crackling sphere of light. Albel screamed, crying and gasping for air that couldn't quite seem to reach his lungs. There was a burning sensation everywhere… from his muscles that felt like they were on fire to his injuries that grew steadily severe from Fayt's lightning assault. His nerves felt like a hundred hot pokers were continuously running through his front and back… and he continued to scream, falling to his knees, but too stubborn and prideful to yield.

Fayt frowned, unsettled by his opponent's show of resilience. A normal person would have been dead by now… it was a miracle Albel wasn't even paralyzed. So, Fayt poured all his strength into his spell, striking the Glyphian harder than before.

Albel was screaming so loudly he grew deaf to his own agony. All he felt, all he knew, was the unbearable heat coursing through his veins, threatening to spill forth. His arms trembled and with a furious roar, his spirit lashed out in turn. The faint red aura surrounding him grew in its intensity, taking the form of dragons, circling him protectively, each head snapping at their host's tormentor in a promise for blood.

Fayt's pupils dilated in panic. What the hell – _dragons?!_ This guy could command dragons?! How the hell was that even _possible?!_

Sweat mattered Albel's brow. His jaw clenched.

_I won't die here._

' _Don't disappoint me and your father again.'_

_I won't lose._

' _No matter what happens, no matter what anyone will say from tomorrow on, I'm proud of you. I've never been more proud to have you as my son.'_

" _ **I'm not weak!"**_

Albel's voice didn't sound human.

The crimson dragons surged forward in a primal roar. Fayt scrambled a few paces back, desperate for escape but ultimately defenseless. The flames of triumph, which burned so strongly before, were now painfully extinguished. He couldn't survive this. _No way_ he could walk out of this one alive. His parents, Sophia, and Roger flashed through his mind, filling him with regret. Failure hung heavily on his spirit.

In the end, he couldn't protect anyone.

'I'm sorry, guys…'

He shut his eyes in resignation.

But nothing happened.

_Huh?_

Emerald eyes cracked open hesitantly. The crimson dragons disappeared before they could even touch him. Fayt blinked rapidly, his heart racing and body momentarily forgetting how to move. He was panting heavily, still struggling to process the fact that he was still very much alive. Across from him, Albel laid face first on the ground, thoroughly beaten and unconscious. The guy must have exhausted himself from the strain and it suddenly occurred to him that if Albel had held on a little longer, he would have been dead.

Fayt allowed his gaze to linger on the fallen captain a little longer, petrified. What… What the hell was that?

* * *

An air dragon landed on the Bequerel Mountain Path just outside the Kirlsa mines. Duke Vox descended his loyal stead and the great beast lowered its head in respect. The Dragon Brigade captain reached up to stroke its muzzle. Honestly, he had far more important matters to deal with than pick up a spoiled brat, but he figured the sooner he got this over with, the faster he could commence further discussions with Minister Malroy.

What possessed his nephew to give Nox's boy a second chance utterly baffled Vox, but his frustration soon gave way to sadistic joy when he saw said figure lying sprawled on the ground up ahead. Vox's eyes surveyed the area: a broken sword; bloodstains; obvious signs of struggle and… traces of magic in the air. His gaze landed on Albel. He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"So, the once proud captain failed his mission," he scoffed, approaching the body, but paused when a series of low growls reverberated through the air.

A small group of brass dragons emerged from the mine's entrance, hissing and snarling at the Dragon Brigade captain the closer he got to Albel's body. Unsettled, Vox slowly reached down, fingers hovering over his sword's hilt. What the hell was wrong with these creatures?

He stopped at Albel's feet.

The dragons charged, jaws snapping, consumed by unfathomable rage. They surrounded Albel's body protectively. However, before they could get within one foot of Vox, the captain's air dragon intercepted them. It extended its neck in a ferocious roar, beating its wings in a display of dominance. The lesser brass dragons shrank away, albeit reluctantly, before quietly retreating into the mines. Vox followed the beasts with his eyes, his scowl never once leaving his face.

_Strange…_

He crouched down, noticed the ex-captain was still breathing, and grabbed the unconscious Albel roughly by the back of his neck, lifting the upper-half of his body off the ground. Clear dispassion marred the war commander's face the more he looked at the kingdom's traitor and failure. A nasty smirk spread across his lips.

Finally, the last member of the Nox clan had been dealt with. The powerful Dragon Brigade was all _his._ The Black Brigade was _his_ to command. The humanoids were at his mercy, and his foolish nephew, Arzei, drank up every word he said like an obedient little pup. No one would hinder his path to glory now.

"Albel Nox," he delivered his verdict in a harsh whisper, "I hereby sentence you and the rest of your wretched family tree, to a lifetime in prison… and _hell_."

* * *

Nel whirled around to face Fayt, flabbergasted. Neither him nor Cliff had _ever_ seen the Aquarian act so candidly before, what with the way she was waving her arms so vigorously. They were currently making the return trip to the royal city via the Aire Hills.

" _How?_ How in Apris' name did you manage to _single-handedly_ defeat _the_ Albel Nox?!" she all but screeched.

"Believe me, I'm still trying to wrap my head around that."

Fayt shuddered, still not quite able to shake the previous fight and his near-death experience from his thoughts. But to be fair, if the guy hadn't exhausted himself, he would have won. Though Fayt didn't feel inclined to tell them that.

Though Nel and Cliff had taken a backseat earlier, all three of them had witnessed the startling conclusion to the two swordsmen's epic battle. Even Nel said she hadn't seen anything like it before – Albel's final attack that is. And she was pretty sure it wasn't a "Glyphian-only" sort of thing too. When Fayt had asked her if Albel could control dragons, she had simply waved him off with a laugh and said he read one too many stories.

"Which reminds me…" she trailed off, cocking her head curiously. "Those abilities you used to take down Albel – were they the 'symbology' you and Cliff talked about before in the wagon?"

The two men shared a meaningful look before Cliff answered her.

"Yeah. It's similar to your runology, except that it's a learned skill. That means anyone can perform it as long as they've thoroughly studied it and passed certain tests. Kind of like classes in school."

"I see…" Nel responded, fascinated. Her violet eyes shone with awe like a child who had just been told that Santa Claus was real. "Does everyone in Greeton use symbology then?"

"Not me," Cliff gestured at himself proudly. "Fayt's kind mostly. _My_ race is blessed with a whole different skill set – we're as tough as they come."

'More like completely insane,' Fayt thought sardonically with an eye roll.

"Oh, that's right!" Nel slammed a fist into an open palm, recalling something. "You guys have quite a diverse population there."

"Who told you that?" asked Fayt and Cliff simultaneously.

"Roger did," she answered, thinking back to their nighttime conversation in Peterny's inn. "Based on your explanation, Fayt, he said that two hostile races were at war with each other. That's how your father ended up getting dragged into the whole scuffle – he's an important man wanted by both sides." She shrugged. "I just deduced that there were more than two races in your kingdom from there."

Cliff whistled, impressed. "Smart girl."

Nel shot him a charming smile. "That's why you love me."

Fayt pulled at his face. _Oh my god, these two…_

Just then, he stopped, nose twitching. He sniffed the air with a frown.

"Hey guys? Do you smell smoke?"

It was coming from up ahead and the only place within close proximity was…

It was a no-brainer. The trio picked up speed and made a mad dash towards Arias… at least, what _had_ been Arias. A few hours ago when they made passage through this village, it was still standing (or what remained of it anyway) and Clair and her soldiers had happily seen them off. But now, nothing remained and they found themselves standing in the charred remains of what should have been a humble little village by the river. The soil beneath their feet was pitch black. A gust of wind blew past, scattering the ashes like a wintry blizzard. Some of the fallen wooden structures were still burning. The bell of Arias' bell tower hung precariously from a half-shredded rope.

"No…" Nel sank to her knees, her eyes wide in horror. Her voice trembled in despair.

This couldn't be… How… They had walked down these streets this very afternoon. The buildings... There had been _people_. Tynave and Farleen... Clair…

"… Nel, I think you should see this," Fayt whispered, solemn.

He helped the Aquarian to her feet, took her by the hand and gently guided her to a pile of wooden pillars and stone – presumably what was left of the runological headquarters. Slowly, Fayt raised his hand and pointed at something buried in the center of the devastation. At first, Nel was confused, unsure what exactly she was supposed to be seeing, until her gaze honed in on a lone, pale, delicate hand peeking through a pile of rubble. And by that hand, not too far from its fingers, was a familiar black-and-purple stripped scarf.

Something in Nel's spirit broke.

" _Clair!"_

She was screaming, wailing, _shrieking_. Tears streaked down her cheeks like never-ending rivers. Desperate, she surged forward, but was promptly caught around her waist by Cliff, who tugged her back, holding her against his chest. She struggled, pounded her fists against his forearms, clawed his flesh… but Cliff stood firm and soon, she collapsed against him, grief finally settling in.

"Oh God - No… please… _please!_ Clair..."

Nel was mumbling gibberish by now, sobbing, hysterical. She could taste the saltiness of her tears, the bitterness of regret, and the raw bite of anger. Fayt watched her, expression pained. The destruction of Arias wasn't an easy sight to bear, but for Nel, the weight of loss and scale of destruction undoubtedly broke her.

"Shh… Nel, calm down… 'Atta girl," Cliff hushed, wiping away her tears and pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "You're stronger than this." He removed her scarf, and then retrieved the late-Clair's own, wrapping it around Nel's neck.

"Let's finish what we started."

_The weapons._

Resolve flashed across Nel's eyes. Her fingers clenched at the material of Clair's scarf in a silent promise. She shook with rage.

"Airyglyph will _pay._ _"_

"Guys…?" Fayt ventured hesitantly, pointing at something up ahead. "I don't think it was Airyglyph."

There, amidst the corpses of both Aquarians and Glyphians alike, was the flag of the Sanmite Republic flying proudly in the wind.

* * *

A blonde head emerged from between two houses, azure eyes darting from side to side, surveying the premises. All clear. She stepped out onto the cobblestone streets, a quick glance down to the beeping device in her hand efficient in reminding her the specifics of her current location. 'Aquois' or something like that. Whatever the case, she had a mission and she tended not to dwell too much on unnecessary details.

"Come on, where are you guys?"

Her gaze was focused on the screen of her tracker; the little thing's beeps fading after every passing minute. As soon as she managed to establish contact with the Diplo, she got a lead on her partner's whereabouts, which brought her to this very city. Unfortunately, that had been hours ago and the beautiful Klausian was steadily losing the guy's signal.

"Do me a favor, Cliff, and don't be dead," she muttered, only to let out a curse when the beeps stopped altogether. She nearly threw the device over the bridge.

"Dammit!"

But her frustration was gone as soon as it came.

"Someone… help… please!"

A young woman, pale as moonlight and hair the shade of chestnut, stumbled towards her. She coughed and wheezed between her pleas, swaying dangerously with every step she took.

Ameena struggled for balance, but it was hard when breathing grew increasingly difficult. She had run as fast as she could, pushed herself; traveled for so long… Her knees gave way beneath her and she felt herself fall forward, but was caught by a pair of arms. Inclining her head, she found herself staring into a pair of wide, concerned blue eyes. A beautiful blonde woman dressed in such strange clothes… Ameena clung onto the front of her jacket, desperate.

"Please… you have to help me… Roger… I'm looking for Roger… the humanoids… Peterny…"

"H-Hey! What's wrong? Who's Roger?"

But the brunette passed out in her arms and she cursed her luck for the second time that afternoon.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Lowering the girl gently and supporting her head on her lap, the Klausian placed a hand over the brunette's mouth and felt for her breath. Shallow. She retrieved a bio-scanner from the pocket of her shorts and passed the beam over the girl's form. Bringing the device up to her face, she frowned in trepidation. Vitals signs were low – this girl was suffering from tuberculosis.

'I need to get her to a doctor,' she thought, accessing the situation calmly. After all, that's what Cliff said she did best. Always one step at a time…

She was just about to lift the girl into her arms when a gruff voice stopped her, followed shortly by a lighter one.

"Well, if it isn't Mirage!"

"Mirage? You're ok!"

She had to resist a smirk. Just the man, or men, she wanted to see. Thank God they weren't dead.

"It's nice to see you again, Cliff." She smiled up at him pleasantly. Inwardly, she was relieved to see that her partner was well… not that she needed to show it. Knowing Cliff, he'd probably let it get to his head if he found out.

"And it's good to see that you're doing fine yourself, Fayt."

Next to the two men, Nel's eyes darted between them and the strange new woman – Mirage, as they had called her. She took in the blonde's attire – similar to Cliff's (were they the same race?). And judging by her informal behavior towards both Cliff and Fayt, she was likely an ally. Another Greeton engineer perhaps?

But why was she here? _How_ did she even get here? Too many questions...

Nel folded her arms, impatient. "Are we going to stand around all day, or are you going to introduce me?"

"Where are my manners?" Cliff chuckled and motioned at Mirage. "Nel, this beauty right here is Mirage Koas, my partner."

Nel's eye twitched. "… Partner?"

"Save the introductions, guys," Mirage interrupted hurriedly, nudging the unconscious girl in her arms. "Right now, we need to get this girl to a doctor. She's gravely ill."

Fayt took a bold step forward and brushed the girl's bangs from her eyes, only to recoil in shock.

"Ameena?!" he gasped. What the heck was she doing all the way here? She was in _no condition_ to journey so far from home, let alone to Aquois. What in the world would possess her to risk her health like that?

"You know her?" said Mirage, Nel, and Cliff simultaneously.

"Yeah… she's Roger's close friend. I met her at Peterny," he explained, "but she's really sick and shouldn't even _be_ here."

He didn't understand it. When he met Ameena at Peterny, he was so sure that her weak condition prevented her from journeying beyond the town's borders. If not, she would have found the opportunity to reunite with her childhood friend like she so desperately wanted. She seemed so frail and with her sickness... he found it almost impossible to believe she made it here so quickly and in one piece. He could only pray that the strain wouldn't progress the effect of the disease.

Mirage frowned at the mention of that name. "Roger…? This girl said she was looking for someone by that name before she passed out. It sounded like trouble."

Well, that certainly got his attention.

"What sort of trouble?"

"I don't know. She mentioned something about humanoids and 'Peterny' before she passed out."

The scene of Arias and the Sanmite Republic's flag flashed through his mind. Trepidation stirred in his gut. Things were escalating so rapidly, he realized there really wasn't much time left for Aquaria. First, Albel Nox tried to assassinate them; then, the Sanmite Republic's siege of Arias; and now, Ameena was risking her life to seek out Roger? But what for? Fayt hadn't known her for long, but he got the impression that Ameena was the total opposite of the impulsive Roger. She would never risk her life so carelessly like that... right?

Something was seriously wrong.

"Nel, we need to get her to the palace. Maybe your healers – "

"Leingod!"

Four pairs of eyes turned to the new voice. A distressed Dion ran up to them, his spectacles slightly off-center and complexion pale. The chief researcher stopped in front of Fayt, bending over to catch his breath. Meanwhile, Fayt was still having trouble processing the fact that _Dion_ was out of the _palace_ instead of working on the weapons. His heart raced. This couldn't be good at all.

"Leingod, oh, thank goodness… You have to come quickly. Something terrible has happened to Roger. He – " Dion paused, suddenly noticing the unconscious Ameena in Mirage's arms. He felt his jaw go slack, a mixture of dread and recognition swimming in his eyes. All previous thoughts momentarily fled his mind upon the sight of the pale, lovely brunette.

_No, it can't be…_

He was probably mistaken.

"Dion!"

He snapped his head back up and came face to face with Fayt's anxious stare. It seemed that the mere mention of his young lover's name was enough to rattle the swordsman's composure. Fayt grabbed Dion by his shoulders and shook him, leveling the nervous man with a cold, hard glare.

"What about Roger?" he growled dangerously, the very tone of his voice promising immeasurable pain and suffering to those who dared come between him and _his_ Menodix.

Dion gulped and said with a stutter, "T-There's something wrong with him. We were working on the weapon when he suddenly started screaming, like he was being burned alive. He passed out shortly after. He's running an abnormally high fever, but our healers can't do a thing. They… they haven't seen anything like it before!"

All color drained from Fayt's face.

"Isn't there _something_ you guys can do?!"

This wasn't happening. He had only left the boy's side for a few hours… Fayt's grip on Dion's shoulders tightened and the latter met his scrutiny, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, Leingod, but we tried everything. Roger's not waking up…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Certain notes on the battle scene: the attacks Albel used were "Palm of Destruction" and an unstable form of "Dragon Roar". I always found the latter attack interesting and wanted to expound on that further, unlike the game. Our rivals finally meet in an epic clash of swords and I hope I didn't disappoint anyone with the delivery. Want to know what happened to Roger? I do too! ;)
> 
> If you like my story so far, please leave a kudos and/or comment. I would love to know what you think!


	13. My Mission is My Religion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlists for my stories are available on my profile.
> 
> Accompanying track for this chapter: "The Collapse of Laputa" by Joe Hisaishi.

Fayt burst through the door of Roger's bedroom, startling the young healers on duty. The wooden barrier slammed against the wall so hard, it created a slight dent from the force.

" _Roger_!" he screamed, only to get swarmed by women. He struggled to fight them off, but they stood their ground. Hands flew up at him, holding him down, pushing him away, restrained him; yet he remained persistent.

"Roger, it's me! I'm back… I'm ok!"

"Young man, please keep your voice down," hushed the doctor, growing increasingly annoyed as she fought to keep him back. "The patient needs his rest. Please stop – he smacked her in the face – I _order_ you to leave at once!"

But he didn't give a rat's ass.

"I'm not going anywhere until I see him!"

"I cannot allow – "

"At ease," said Nel from the entrance, arms folded. Cliff and Dion peeked nervously into the room from behind her. She maintained her stare and the doctor bowed in submission, her fellow nurses following suit.

"L-Lady Nel…"

"I'd like you and your team to give us some privacy." Her eyes darted to Fayt, whose face had gone pale with worry. "And if Fayt wishes to see the patient in the future, under no circumstances are you to turn him away. Understood?"

"Yes Ma'am."

The healers shuffled out of the room obediently just as Fayt flew to Roger's bedside. True to Dion's words, the Menodix was in an indefinite coma, breathing harshly. Sweat matted his brow and his cheeks were thoroughly flushed. He was frowning in his sleep, as if every intake of breath proved a painfully arduous task. Despite the number of times Fayt called out to him, begged and pleaded him to wake up, to acknowledge his presence; that he had come home and fulfilled his promise, to _please_ be all right… Roger slept on undisturbed, his ears not even giving the barest twitches of acknowledgment. It pained him to know that his words weren't getting through to him.

It didn't matter that he had just defeated Albel and prevented the guy from abducting Roger, or that Arias and all its inhabitants were slaughtered under a few agonizing hours, or even if Ameena was fighting for her own life in the next room. Victory meant nothing to him, the on goings of war but a distant nightmare if Roger wasn't around to witness these things by his side. He had his own reasons for involving himself in this war, but those reasons would soon fade to dust if the boy never woke up.

"I should have stayed with you," he found himself regretting for the second time that hour, reaching out with shaky fingers.

His lower lip quivered and he bit it. Now that the adrenaline had died down, and death loomed large in this room, did it finally sink in that he had survived an actual assassination attempt amidst a three-way war. The stakes were piling up, doubt and fear clouded his heart as he was once again reminded of his key position in this conflict, but without Roger's company and support, he felt even more lonely and terrified than before.

"I don't know what's happening, Roger. I don't know what to do. I feel so lost…"

Nel watched the scene with growing sympathy, guilty for getting both boys more involved than they should, but it was too late to turn back. Airyglyph was coming and they hadn't much time.

"Fayt, I'm sorry, but we have to – "

"No, don't touch him!" But Dion's warning came a second too late.

" _Ah!"_ Fayt gave a sharp cry, yanking his hand back from Roger's forehead. _What the hell –_ his skin was on fire! Never had he come across fevers that felt _this_ bad before... 'Abnormal' was right. How was Roger even alive?!

"Fayt!"

"Kid, you hurt?"

Cliff inspected his hand as Fayt hissed from the contact. The skin over his fingertips and palm glowed a raw pink.

"I'm fine," he muttered, wincing.

_But what the hell was that?_

Nel approached the bed and shut her eyes, allowing her hand to ghost over Roger's body. Power gathered at her fingertips and her aura clashed with an angry red glow, which emitted from the humanoid's body. The aura pushed her away and she bit her lip in trepidation, withdrawing her hand. Since her acquaintance with the Menodix, she always knew his abilities were special compared to his peers, but this… whatever _this_ was didn't feel like him at all.

"It's foreign, but it's not hurting him. I think – she hesitated – I think it's protecting him."

"But the pipsqueak's in pain, isn't he?" Cliff indicated at Roger with his thumb. "He looks like he can barely breathe!"

His observation left Nel feeling even more uncertain.

"Maybe it's not protecting him… maybe it's protecting itself." She noticed Fayt reach out to him again from the corner of her eye. "Fayt, don't!"

And that was when she saw it again – the strange blue light. It centered on Fayt's forehead before rupturing to spread throughout his entire body, covering him in a faint, ethereal glow. However, he didn't even seem to notice the change, too concerned over Roger's well being. As if in a trance, his hand passed through the red aura effortlessly and the angry barrier faded, leaving him with his palm upon Roger's forehead and a peaceful, content smile on the sleeping boy's face. Instantly, the heat receded to a mild fever. Fayt brushed aside unruly chocolate-colored bangs and planted a tender kiss on his lover's forehead.

As Dion and Nel gaped at the spectacle, the latter stopped to wonder if that had been symbology as well. How powerful was it anyway? It seemed different though, _felt_ different. Now she _knew_ she had hadn't been imaging things back at Traum Mountains. Who was Fayt exactly, and how was he able to perform a feat no other healer could? What made him so special?

To the side, Cliff continued to watch Fayt with a knowing frown. The kid's abilities were starting to manifest rapidly under such a short time frame it was almost disconcerting. On top of that, they seemed sensitive to his emotions, which wasn't exactly a good thing seeing as Fayt was undergoing a lot of stress _and_ was by default a teenager chuck-full of raging hormones. Mirage certainly wouldn't be happy to hear about this…

But his carefree smirk returned as soon as Nel turned around to face him. She raised her eyebrows while he shrugged.

"Don't look at me, I'm just a bodyguard. And Mirage's just a pilot."

Along the way, they had established Mirage's role in the whole thing – a pilot, who hid away while he and Fayt had gotten captured by Airyglyph soldiers. Mirage herself had quickly explained that she spent days trying to locate them. However, before Nel could pry anything else from her, she excused herself to tend to Ameena in one of the guest rooms, seeing it as a personal responsibility. At least it was clear who the more levelheaded one was between the two blondes.

Nel released a drawn out sigh. She didn't have any reason to distrust Cliff any more than their first meeting in the dungeons. However, the fall of Arias and Clair's death took its toll on her, making her feel more stressed than when she first began this mission. Everything seemed to be crashing down on her; her sacrifices all in vain – in the end, she failed to protect her subordinates, and their deaths along with Clair's, weighed heavily on her shoulders. Her best friend's scarf around her neck remained a cruel, permanent reminder of what she needed to do, what still needed to be done.

With or without Roger.

"Dion, how far are we with the progression of those weapons?"

"O-Oh, not too bad," he stuttered, alarmed by the sudden attention Nel was giving him. He was still trying to wrap his mind around what he had seen after all.

"With the copper at ready, my researchers and I can begin tests in a few hours. Roger and I had just perfected the designs before…" he trailed off, only to shake his head. No time to worry about the Menodix now. "Anyway, according to my calculations, we should complete all six weapons in about eight days."

"Well, you better amend those calculations of yours, pal, because Airyglyph's done fooling around."

"Cliff's right," Nel quipped, expression grave. "They took Arias… Aquarian forces never stood a chance."

Dion visibly paled. "You mean… Lady Clair is… is…"

"Gone, Dion. They're all gone."

He couldn't believe this. Everything he was hearing… Nothing stood between the royal city and Airyglyph now. He turned to Fayt urgently.

"Leingod, I need you in the lab. We must work quickly! We'll go through the plans and…"

But Fayt wasn't even hearing the chief researcher. Oh, he knew very well what was at stake, understood that time wasn't on their side, remembered the promises he made to Nel and the Queen, but _how_ was he supposed to move on from here when the very person he actually made up his mind for, was in a coma and suffering from a mysterious ailment no one could even hope to understand? He couldn't just _leave_ Roger like this…

'Can't do anything, my foot,' Fayt thought to himself cynically. He was doing plenty right here, right now. The boy was breathing normally; he had such a _wonderful_ smile on his face, which hadn't been there before. There was no more pain. More than anything, he wished this was just some stupid joke and that Roger would jump up with a loud "Gotcha!" and then proceed to argue with Cliff like any other day. Unfortunately, that wasn't happening and Fayt found himself having to painfully accept the harsh reality in front of him.

His symbology kept Roger's body cool, while his free hand took the boy's smaller one in his, lacing their fingers intimately. Just like they had first done in Arias.

He wasn't going anywhere.

"Cross my heart," he repeated his parting words like a vow.

The low murmur of his voice caused Roger's ears to twitch, sending a warm jolt through his heart. He was finally getting through to him. He squeezed those tiny fingers between his calloused ones.

_I'm here._

Dion was at a loss. Cliff eyed his charge and with a loud sigh, kicked off the chair he had been sitting on for the past half hour. He knew hopelessly in love and distracted when he saw it.

"Relax, four-eyes; I'll help with the weapons. Fayt's not the only tech-wiz in this room." Then, he turned to his charge. "Stay with the brat. I got you covered."

Fayt shot him a rare smile. "Thanks, Cliff."

"Don't mention it."

As the two men left the room and with Dion filling Cliff in on the latest developments, Nel lingered by the doorway, heart heavy and expression conflicted. As she heard Fayt desperately murmur the words, "Please wake up, please wake up" over and over, her gaze honed in on Roger – the young humanoid boy she practically grew up with. If she witnessed this scene in a world without war, she would have been by his bedside too, done what Fayt did with those healers and perhaps fight tooth and nail for a cure or at least a possible explanation behind this mysterious occurrence.

But not in this life.

Arias, the corpses of her fellow Aquarians, and the Sanmite Republic's flag flashed through her mind – a painful reminder of the politics that divided their nations now. Once upon a time, she loved Roger like family, having lost her own father to the war; but even stories had to come to an end. She couldn't bring herself to feel pity for the enemy. It was so hard to forgive and forget.

Nel turned and walked away, consumed by thoughts of the Menodix dying in his sleep. And somehow, it frightened her knowing that she was actually ok with that.

* * *

Within Castle Aquois' royal audience chamber, all was silent save the faint sounds of rushing water from the waterfalls outside. Even the melodious tunes from the chapel choir, who normally performed during such times of worship, were ostensibly absent in light of current circumstances. Instead, grief-stricken wails and moans permeated the air, oozing through the walls from the chapel below, replacing glorious praise with immense sorrow. The magistrates and members of the royal court fidgeted in their seats, lost for words over the war's recent developments.

Queen Romeria closed her eyes and ears to her people's pain, but even she knew that she couldn't quite close her heart to a kingdom's grief. Many people, loved ones, had died this day and their bodies were brought to the castle chapel to receive Apris' final blessings. The tears would only continue. The castle was open to visitors all night.

All this while, she had carried an unwavering hope that Arzei would find it in his heart to call off this madness, to remember those days of peace, to remember _her_ … that hope was now lost. Those wistful days of springtime romance had passed. She wished things didn't have to be this way.

The moment of silence ended. She lifted her gaze, giving the royal court her full attention.

"Thank you for responding so swiftly, and to join me in grieving over my children of Arias. We are here to honor the lives of Clair Lasbard, commander of Aquaria's military, and our soldiers who have fought valiantly for the protection and sovereignty of our kingdom. May Apris guide their souls to peace."

Quiet murmurings filled the air as each official present offered up their prayers to the goddesses above. They stood around the audience chamber: on the steps, the floor below; even Laselle was present, ever dutiful as he took his place beside his Queen. Romeria chimed a small bell in conclusion and they lifted their heads simultaneously.

"Aquaria has lost not only a great leader, but the backbone of our entire army. By losing our border town and Lady Clair, we are left open and at the mercy of enemy fire. Peterny is our final line of defense. If we fail, Airyglyph and the Sanmite Republic will take the royal city in one fell swoop."

"Forgive me, your majesty," interrupted Laselle, bowing his head deeply, "but without Lady Clair, who will lead our soldiers?"

"Patience, Laselle. That is why she is here."

A young Aquarian was kneeling at the base of the steps this whole time. Romeria regarded her personal aid with benevolence. She could think of no other better suited for this role.

"Rise, Nel Zelpher, daughter of Neville Zelpher."

"Your majesty." Nel did as requested, though never lifted her head.

A look of sympathy crossed Romeria features as she stared at her; inwardly marveling at how much that sweet, innocent little girl had grown to be such a fine, brave, and masterful combatant.

"I am sorry for your loss, my child. It must not be easy losing a good friend shortly after mourning Sir Zelpher's death. You and Lady Clair have always been close. She was truly a remarkable leader, just like your father."

"Thank you, your majesty." Nel kept her eyes on the ground, humbled by her Queen's praise. Romeria continued to gaze at her in approval, having high regard for the woman's strength in the face of adversity.

"You have proven yourself by guiding the Greeton engineers safely into Aquarian territory. However," Romeria paused, gaze hardening in conviction, "in light of the recent siege of Arias, and the deaths of Aquaria's top militants, I must request one last thing from you – a new mission."

"A new mission?" Nel repeated, surprise evident in her voice, as she finally looked her Queen in the eye for the first time.

"Correct."

The Holy Mother rose from her throne and descended the steps. She stopped in front of Nel and lifted her chin with her hand to stare deep into the woman's unflinching violet eyes. Immediately, Romeria knew she made the right decision.

"From this moment forth, you are no longer my personal aid, but the new high commander of the Aquarian army. Everyone will be looking to you from now on. I can think of no other more suitable for the job."

Loud gasps transpired around the chamber as the royal court deliberated over the Queen's recent proclamation. And while Laselle did his best to maintain order amongst those present, Nel remained motionless, eyes wide and unblinking as she struggled to absorb her Queen's words. High… commander? _Her?_ But she knew nothing of leading an entire military outfit! A small group of subordinates was all she ever commanded… could she really assemble a whole army and carry out a successful military operation?

"But – "

"You were the one who brought the engineers, whom we are eternally grateful for. You displayed an extraordinary degree of loyalty when you risked your life to save your fellow Aquarians from enemy hands. And you have proven your abilities by returning after each and every perilous mission time and time again."

Nel trembled before the Holy Mother, overcome by emotion. Never in her wildest dreams had she _ever_ envisioned something like this to happen to her. As a small child, all her father ever talked about was supporting the Lasbards from the shadows… but she could still hear her father's dying words, how he felt honored to die for his kingdom as he welcomed death like an old friend. And now, Clair had followed after him in the name of Aquaria, in her fight for peace and a better tomorrow.

It was up to her now.

"Your majesty," she took her Queen's hand in hers and bowed her head graciously. "I am deeply honored to be Aquaria's high commander. I will lead our kingdom to victory."

"I have every faith in you," said Romeria with a nod. "May the grace of Apris be with you."

She motioned her advisor over. "Laselle."

"Yes, your majesty," he bowed respectfully.

"Summon the royal messenger. I want missives distributed throughout Aquois and Peterny."

Her eyes trailed over each and every court official present. She wished things didn't have to be this way, but it appeared the prophecy had already embarked on its path to fruition.

"At this moment, Aquaria is at war with both Airyglyph and the Sanmite Republic."

* * *

A few light knocks and a soft "Come in" later, found Dion stepping hesitantly into Ameena's bedroom. Earlier, he had secretly requested the doctor and her healers to place the poor girl in the guest room just opposite his living quarters. Call it research instincts, but there was just something he couldn't quite shake off about the brunette. He kept getting the impression that he knew her from somewhere…

"I beg your pardon, Miss Koas, but I hope I'm not intruding?"

Said woman turned her attention from Ameena to address him.

"Not at all," she answered with a gentle smile. "Dion, am I right?"

"Yes," he paused to stare at the slumbering girl beneath the covers.

Her breathing had evened out and she had a peaceful look on her face. Some color had even returned to her cheeks. Her brown shawl had been removed from her shoulders and was draped over the chair Mirage was sitting on.

"It's good to see that the worst is over."

He missed the flash of sorrow in Mirage's eyes and the slight downturn of her pink lips. She wanted so badly to correct Dion's observations, but what was she supposed to say? That she was truly sorry, but the disease Ameena had contracted was in its final stage and there was no hope of saving her? That the only cure lay within a battle cruiser hailing from a developed quadrant, which was more than a few light years away from their current destination? Like Fayt and Cliff, she had no intention on letting the inhabitants of an underdeveloped planet realize the minuteness of their existence within the greater Sol system, _within_ the entire universe.

But that didn't mean that she lacked sympathy.

"Shall I give you some privacy?" she offered, ever the observant type.

At Dion's grateful bow and stutter of thanks, Mirage relieved herself from her post next to Ameena and approached him where he stood by the entrance. Confused, Dion stared up at her with a raised brow and she pushed something small into his hand.

"Fayt asked me to pass this to you." Then with a mysterious smile, she stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her.

For a moment, Dion remained motionless between the entrance and bed, pondering over the strange woman's behavior. His previous exchange with Cliff in the lab as the burly man preferred to use his hands than a pair of pliers, passed briefly through his mind's eye. And now, Leingod had a gift for him? It was official: all people from Greeton were weird…

…Until he parted his fingers and realized that perhaps Mirage wasn't so bad after all. Cryptic and a woman of few words, yes, but far more understanding and perceptive than anyone he had ever met. Shakily, he traced the dried up petals of the little handmade charm with his fingertips. He remembered this ornament; made it for a little girl who was always so sickly, but held a special place in his heart. His mother had taught him how to make a _Maiden of Irisa_ charm, and he had given it to that little girl on the day she left Airyglyph forever. When he became a researcher for the Queen and moved to Aquois, he honestly thought he would never see her and this charm again.

"Ameena…it _is_ you." He kneeled by her bedside and took her hand between his. It was as cold as ice.

"Why did you come here? Oh, what's happened to you?"

His mind was in turmoil. Of course he knew all about the death of her parents; how she had moved to Peterny to seek shelter from Airyglyph's bitter cold, but never did he know how serious her illness had escalated. The doctor had informed him of its developments. It wasn't a rare disease, but it was incurable as far as she could tell. So far, all those afflicted had died shortly after contracting it, but Ameena had survived far beyond expectations, so Dion remained exceedingly optimistic.

She had to pull through this, no matter what.

"I wish you'd wake up, Ameena," he whispered brokenly as he stroked her hair. The dull brown locks fell past his fingers, limp.

"There are so many things I want to ask you… to tell you… but most of all, I just want to hear your voice again."

A sad smile graced his lips. His eyes shone with unshed tears.

"I did it, Ameena. _We_ did it. Aquaria's weapons are in their final phases and we're moving off tomorrow."

His voice shook and his fingers clenched the mattress in a bid to give himself confidence.

"We'll win this war, and I'll come home to you, just like I promised. You can live in the palace with me and it'll be like old times. We'll take walks down at Duggus Forest. Play by the streams of Sanmite Steppes. Just the two of us."

Staring at the charm in his palm for a brief moment, he set it gently by Ameena's pillow. Then, he clasped his hands together and bowed his head in prayer. If his friend died now, living through this war would be meaningless.

_Irisa, hear my prayer: watch over Ameena._

Dion's hands moved to support himself as he leaned in to place a tender kiss upon the girl's forehead.

"We'll be together soon. I promise."

* * *

All was silent in the bedroom save the even breathings of its two occupants. While Roger continued to sleep on undisturbed, Fayt was seated on a chair next to the bed, head bowed and arms folded. Though his eyes were shut, the swordsman maintained a state of awareness, drifting just above the sea of unconsciousness. Truth be told, he had worn himself out. Pouring hours worth of energy into his symbology had really taken its toll on him, but at least he could content himself with the knowledge that Roger's temperature had receded to normalcy.

Suddenly, there was a light rap on the door and a blonde head poked into the room.

"Hey, kid. Come here for a second."

Fayt stirred in his sleep. 'Mmn… Cliff?'

Shaking his head and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Fayt spared Roger one last parting glance before rising to his feet and quietly exited the bedroom. Once he stepped out into the hallway and shut the door behind him, he was mildly surprised to find not only Cliff waiting for him, but Mirage, Nel and Dion as well. He blinked slowly.

"What's going on?"

"You heard the news?"

Fayt avoided Cliff's stare. "Of course I did."

There was a dark scowl across his face, one that Nel saw but professionally dismissed.

"Her Majesty has delivered her proclamation," she reminded him, stepping forward. "If – she caught herself – _once_ Roger wakes up, he's Aquaria's prisoner."

Fayt whirled around so fast he nearly hit her.

"But that's not fair! He didn't _do_ anything!"

"His people did, and as a representative of his nation, he's answerable to their crimes."

"So, Roger's supposed to take responsibility for something he didn't even do!? He didn't even _know_ about the Republic's motives. _How_ is it justifiable to you for _one boy_ to bear the blame for the fall of all of Arias!?"

Fayt didn't care if he was shouting at the top of his voice. All he knew was that he was probably the only person standing between Aquaria and the Menodix's innocence. Also, wasn't Nel supposed to be on Roger's side? The two practically grew up together!

"Then who am I supposed to blame for the death of my people, Fayt!?" Nel screamed, puncturing each statement with a jab to his chest. "Clair is _dead_. My subordinates are _dead_. The Republic have _betrayed_ years of Aquarian trust, and we're the fools caring for a _traitor_ in our royal guest room!"

Nel really let Fayt have it and throughout her tirade, there was nothing anyone could do to stop her. At the end of the day, she was born an Aquarian and would die an Aquarian. So, when it came to choosing sides, no matter how painful things got, the nature of her decision was inevitable. After all, that was why Nel embarked on that crazy mission to rescue them from Airyglyph in the first place. Her kingdom and the lives of its people came first.

"So, what's your choice, Fayt? Are you going back on your word, or will you help us?"

"Now hold on – "

"Fayt," Mirage stopped him, and the slight quirk of her lips really made Fayt wonder how the Klausian could smile at a time like this.

"I'm not too familiar with the politics of this country, but I believe in integrity." Despite her friendly disposition, there was no doubt she was lecturing him. "If you've agreed to something beforehand, then see it through. Don't make promises you don't intend to keep."

"I couldn't have said it better myself."

Fayt turned to regard Cliff, hurt evident in his eyes. "Cliff, you too?"

"Sorry, kid, but I'm with Mirage on this one. I hate to break it to you, but if we don't do anything soon, their next target's Peterny." He grabbed Dion by the shoulder and shoved the researcher forward. "Alright, four-eyes, keep him up to speed."

"R-Right," Dion stuttered as he pushed up his spectacles. It was really intimidating to meet Fayt in the eye during these instances, especially when he seemed to be the bearer of bad news. Well, to Fayt at least.

"The weapons aren't all complete, but Fittir and myself have managed to get two of them fully functional. They've passed the tests and will be ready to be transported to Peterny tonight. With their improved design, we believe two would be more than sufficient to drive home our point."

'Yeah, designs which _Roger_ helped you with,' Fayt added bitterly to himself. His eyes scanned the expectant faces of Dion, Nel, Cliff, and Mirage. He couldn't help but feel disappointed in them as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

"You're all insane."

Fayt reached for the doorknob, but Cliff forcefully tugged him back.

"Look, you're not thinking straight – "

" _I'm_ not thinking straight?" Fayt reiterated, aghast. " _You're_ the ones talking about using Roger's designs to kill his own people!"

"Do you want me to _knock_ some sense into that stubborn head of yours?!" Cliff shoved Fayt against the door. "Save me the sentimentality, kid. My mission is to protect you and bring you to our leader. _You're_ the one losing sight of the end goal because of some brat. Don't you want to see your old man again?"

"Yes, but – "

"No buts. The quicker we help end this war, the faster we can go rescue your dad."

"Cliff's right, Fayt." Mirage stepped between them. "While looking for you two earlier, I received information about Dr. Leingod's whereabouts. But the trail will grow cold if we don't move quickly."

Fayt's heart skipped a beat. His dad… was alive? After all this time worrying about him and those horrible nightmares, Quark finally found him! He'd escape this crazy planet, rescue his dad, kick some Vendeeni butt, get some answers… but what about Roger?

"My mission is the same as Lady Nel's," said Dion all of a sudden, overcome with a burst of courage. "It's not just Aquaria… Ameena's counting on us too. I made her a promise, one that I intend to keep."

He shot Fayt a meaningful glare as the latter faltered.

"Dion, I…"

"I'll be leaving for Peterny tonight," interrupted Nel, the weight of her statement effectively directing all eyes on her. It was no secret the Crimson Blade spy had been promoted to Aquaria's military high commander.

"Airyglyph will soon attack again. I'm needed at the front." Then, she looked to both Fayt and Cliff. "And I'd be honored to have you guys fight by my side."

Cliff took her hands in his, holding her gaze. "There's no place I'd rather be."

Fayt watched the couple, almost resentful. He knew it. He knew this would happen once they got too involved with the happenings of an underdeveloped planet; had cautioned himself against intimacy countless of times… but he'd gone and fallen for someone all on his own. Cliff's words from their time in the Eagle rang through his mind, about how they had "made contact rather forcefully anyway", and he realized then that caring for Nel and Roger was a hopelessly inevitable consequence.

"… Fayt?"

At the sound of his name, he turned hesitant eyes to the red head. Unlike before, Nel was looking at him in a mixture of empathy and determination. He hated that look. It was the same stare she gave him that night at Kirlsa. His gentle heart grew to recognize it as the prelude to his downfall.

"I understand how difficult this is for you, but we're talking about a clash of three nations. If we don't put an end to this war now, many more will perish… possibly Roger as well."

_No._

A low blow, but he had vowed to do all he could to protect the boy's future, even if it meant making a few sacrifices along the way. No matter what, Roger's safety came first. Cornered, Fayt felt his resolve crumble as he gave in with a heavy heart.

"Alright. What's the plan?"

"I'll have one unit stationed at the borders of the Sanmite Steppes, while the main battalion will be positioned up front. My sources indicate troops will come from the direction of Airyglyph, but I'm not taking any chances. We _must_ engage the enemy before they cross onto Aquarian territory."

"In other words, you want to take the fight to them," was Cliff's simple observation.

"Correct," Nel answered with a nod of her head. "When Airyglyph and the Republic move again, we will hold them off at Aire Hills." Then, she turned to Dion. "Make sure the weapons arrive _only_ by tomorrow. No Glyphian or Republican spy must get word of our plan beforehand."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And how does Mirage fit into all this?" Fayt couldn't help but ask. The woman was a Klausian, and he remembered her mention she was the better fighter compared to Cliff… Was she heading into the fray as well?

"Just as we've discussed, right Cliff?" said Mirage with that mysterious smile of hers. Nel and Dion however, appeared just as confused as Fayt.

"Exactly. Ladies and gentleman, I give you Mirage Koas – our eyes and ears of the operation."

"And when did her majesty approve of this?" Nel interjected with a fierce scowl. She still didn't fully trust Mirage. That, and it felt slightly unnerving that someone else was taking over her old job.

"Bah! We're in a war, guys! There's no time for stupid argy-bargy."

"Argy-bargy?" Fayt repeated with an amused smirk. Cliff threw his arms in the air.

" _Whatever._ The point is, with Nel as high commander, we need someone behind enemy lines to cue us in." He indicated at Mirage with his thumb. "You can't afford to spare any soldiers, so she's our best bet."

"But, Cliff – " He held up his hand.

"Listen, you want to catch the enemy on their turf, but you don't know _when_ that will be. We need someone on constant watch. Mirage will give us the 411 on enemy movements, and if things heat up, I pity the sad fry who'd dare go against her. Besides, she's a professional and can slip in and out without alerting the guards."

Nel blinked. "411…?"

"It's an expression."

"And how will we coordinate ourselves efficiently?" asked Dion, but shut his mouth immediately when Cliff threw something at him. He frantically caught it in his hands. It didn't take long for Nel and Fayt to receive a similar device each.

"Simple: we'll use these," was his answer. He quickly continued before Fayt could even _think_ about launching into his UP3 lecture.

"They're communicators. Just fasten them onto your ear like so – he demonstrated – and press this button to switch them on, and the other button when you wish to talk. Speak normally, and tada: instant communication."

"Extraordinary," whispered Dion, marveling at the new 'Greeton technology' together with Nel. Fayt held the familiar device between his fingers, unsettled.

"But Cliff – we shouldn't. This violates – "

"Hey, if you haven't realized by now, the three of us have violated plenty already," he reasoned, expression grave. "We all got our missions: mine's to bring you back to our leader; yours is to rescue your father. And I stick to my missions. What about you?"

Four pairs of eyes turned to face Fayt and he tensed under the pressure. True, he did want to hurry and see his dad again… and standing around like this wasn't going to make the process any faster. But that would mean he'd be going against Roger's people; his _family…_ He recalled the moment back at the Arias watchtower where Roger talked about Aquor and right now, the child's dream sounded increasingly impossible with the deaths of his kin looming over their heads.

_But, dad or Roger?_

Fayt shook his head vehemently. No, that wasn't even supposed to be a dilemma. Nel was right – certain sacrifices had to be made.

He made his choice.

"Fine. I'm in. What would you have me do?"

Nel straightened up, seemingly pleased with his answer.

"My soldiers and I will handle the ground troops. Dion's with artillery. I would like you and Cliff to break through the enemy's main defense – Vox and Malroy."

"Malroy…?" echoed Fayt uncertainly.

"That's right. He's the Defense Minister of the Sanmite Republic and Commander of the Sanmite Militia," Nel explained. "The mages and Winged cavalry get their orders directly from him, while Vox commands the Dragon Brigade. They're going for a full-scale aerial assault, so expect heavy fire from your front and above." She paused to shoot Fayt a pointed stare. "This is where we could really use your symbology."

He nodded his head. "Right."

But then, there came the next part, and probably the hardest of all.

"Oh, and Fayt?"

"Yeah?"

She held his stare, heart unwavering and mind fully made up.

"There's one last thing I need you to do."

* * *

It hurt.

The deep lull of slumber receded like the tide and restored sensation to every nerve, jolting him into consciousness and enveloping his entire body in a dull yet distinct ache. Every inch of him felt heavy, and his brain struggled to get his fingers moving, or any part of his body for that matter. It was like he had been reborn and was learning how things worked all over again. His ears flicked back-and-forth. There was an eerie silence to his surroundings, a split second of white noise piercing his eardrums, before everything settled and he could pick up the faint chirping of birds in the distance. Sunlight kissed his skin; scents rushed up his nostrils and left an overwhelming aftertaste on his tongue. A groan left his throat as he dared himself to lift his eyelids that had grown heavy with sleep, only to hiss and squeeze them shut at the blinding whiteness that attacked his senses.

Too bright.

He moved to bring an arm up to shield his eyes from the glare, but realized they were strapped down along with his ankles. However, his brain was still rather foggy to process the bigger picture. All he knew was that he couldn't move, and he needed someone to do it for him.

"Nrgh… Mama, turn off the sun will ya?" He couldn't bury his head under the pillow, so he settled for turning his face away instead.

Someone chuckled and he felt fingers run through his hair.

"You're awake," said a gentle voice laced with relief.

The Menodix's ear twitched in recognition. That wasn't his mama, and this definitely wasn't his home. Before he could fit a name to that pitch, he heard movement to his side and felt the mattress sink on his right. A strong arm wrapped around his head and someone leaned in to kiss his cheek and nuzzle against his ear affectionately. His heart raced and a pleasant tingle went through him. He knew that scent, recognized the man's touch, thrilled at the familiar pair of lips pressed against his own…

With a blissful sigh, Roger slowly opened his eyes to smile at the person leaning over him.

"F-Fayt…?" he breathed hoarsely, mentally grimacing. When was the last time he used his voice?

"Why are ya… When did ya get back?" and then his entire body cramped up when he tried to move. His body gave a sudden jerk, but something held him down and his head crashed back onto the pillow. He let out a soft moan of discomfort.

_Restraints. Right._

Why did he even have those on again?

"Do ya mind?" he tugged at his bindings, eyes wide and pleading.

Fayt bit his lower lip and chanced a glance at the guard standing by the door. Roger's eyes followed him. Weird… why was there a guard in his bedroom? When Fayt turned back, the frown was gone and there was a wide smile on his face.

"Sure. Let me get those for you." He undid the boy's restraints, watching as the Menodix massaged his wrists and ankles to get the blood flowing again. "Sorry about that. We… uh… didn't want you running off."

"I don't think I sleep walk, Fayt," he laughed, sticking his tongue out playfully. "Ya oughta know this by now."

Fayt smiled in return, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Roger took in the view from his window and estimated that it was early morning, not too far from 9am thereabouts. The castle seemed rather quiet though – he wasn't able to pick up much hustle and bustle with his sensitive ears. Also, he couldn't smell Nel, and that big lummox wasn't around either… Roger felt slightly disconcerted. Where was everybody?

His gut stirred. Something didn't feel right.

"Hey, Fayt. What's – "

"What happened, Roger?" Fayt suddenly cut him off, tone urgent. Roger blinked at him curiously. Was it just him, or was the guy a little jumpy?

"I come rushing back and Dion tells me you went into a coma. Then the doctors couldn't do a thing and…" His jaw clenched as his fingers dug into the material of his pants. "I couldn't do a thing."

"Fayt…"

Roger sat up so that he could better look the swordsman in the eye. Reaching up, he cupped Fayt's cheek. The teen leaned into his touch, bringing his own hand up to grasp the child's. They laced their fingers together.

"Don't ya worry 'bout me," Roger assured him softly. "I'm a real man and I'm a lot tougher than I look."

"Still…" Fayt hesitated, allowing his concern to show. "Your whole body felt like it was on fire, and you were asleep for almost two days! _No one_ could touch you. Don't you remember anything at all?"

Roger furrowed his brows as he fought to recall anything from the past 48 hours, but came up with nothing. It _was_ pretty odd now that he thought about it. He couldn't even remember feeling any of the burning pain Fayt had described, or losing consciousness to begin with. In fact, there was this perpetual gap between the present moment and the hours following Fayt's departure to Kirlsa. He didn't know if he was exaggerating, but it felt as if he had his brain reset.

"Then… how did I get better?"

"I stayed with you." Fayt gazed deep into the boy's eyes, leaning in. "Every hour without leaving your side. Kept your body cool."

Roger shot him a playful smirk. "I thought ya said nobody could touch me?"

"Well, I'm not just anybody."

He giggled, "Show off."

They pulled away and Roger pushed back the covers to climb out of bed. But when Fayt stopped him almost anxiously, his suspicions on the swordsman's strange behavior from earlier returned full force. It showed from the frown on his face.

"Hey, Fayt, quit it. It's been two days and I _really_ oughta get back ta the lab and help Dion – "

"That won't be necessary."

Roger tilted his head questionably, but Fayt refused to look him in the eye. Instead, the older male suddenly seemed to find the rumpled cotton blankets very interesting. Shadows obscured his eyes.

"W-Why not?" asked Roger.

"Dion's already completed two of the weapons. They're… enough."

It didn't take long for him to read between the lines.

"Airyglyph attacked again, didn't they?"

Fayt nodded his head. "They took Arias."

Roger gasped, visibly shaken by the news. Did that mean that Aquaria's military base was destroyed?

"Is… Is Albel leadin' 'em?"

Fayt shot to his feet so fast, it startled the poor Menodix. His expression was dark and dangerous, and his fists shook at his sides. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was doing all he could to control his temper.

"That bastard is no longer your concern," he said icily.

"T-Then who's leadin' Airyglyph?" Roger pressed on, growing increasingly anxious.

"Duke Vox, Airyglyph's new wartime commander, and – he hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek – Minister Malroy, leader of the Sanmite Militia."

Roger felt his heart stop. The Sanmite Militia? Lucien's dad? No way, that couldn't be right. That would mean that his pops had agreed to – Impossible. The Sanmite Republic couldn't have agreed to join forces with _Airyglyph_ of all people… right? A hesitant smile slowly crept across his lips as he chuckled in disbelief.

"Heh. You're lyin'."

But Fayt didn't seem to be in on the joke. Roger's smile disappeared and something within him snapped.

" _ **You're lyin'!"**_

He screamed at the top of his voice, wailed and shrieked like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. Fayt tried to stop him, to calm him down, but the Menodix was incorrigible as he beat and clawed at his lover's arms whenever he tried to hold onto him. He continued to scream and shout incoherently, and when the guard by the door tried to intervene, Fayt quickly turned to shake his head at him, eyes narrowed and commanding.

Static crackled in his ear.

" _Kid, stop screwing around. We're running out of time!"_

Steeling himself, he surged forward, wrapped his arms around Roger and tackled the child onto the bed. Roger snarled and struggled against him, but Fayt was stronger and it wasn't long before he surrendered to the inevitable. Tired and mind still numb from shock, Roger allowed himself to be pulled into the older male's embrace, shaking and clinging onto him by instinct. Seeking warmth, security, and reassurance, because when it came down to it, Fayt always found a way to make things better. He always did… right?

"Puh-Please, Fayt… W-We _gotta_ stop Aquaria! We hafta convince the queen to withdraw her troops and – he paused, realization dawning upon him – Nel… That's it! Nel'll know what ta do! Where's she? I hafta talk ta her!"

But instead of granting him any form of response, Fayt remained motionless and deathly silent. Urgency flooded his senses as a dawning horror settled over his heart. Fayt's strange and distant behavior; the absence of their gang; the guard at the door; his restraints… It was all intended.

The guard finally crossed the room and stopped behind where Fayt was seated. Roger gulped and gazed up at the Aquarian soldier fearfully. He inched away from his lover's hold, trembling. A quiet and helpless "Fayt?" passed his lips in a whisper.

" _Fayt, just do it – "_

Said teen touched his ear and cut the connection.

"… I'm sorry."

Then he surged forward, grasped Roger's wrists, and tugged the boy towards him in the most mind-blowing, body-burning kiss ever, devouring his mouth with his lips and tongue, ravenous and desperate. The humanoid tasted _divine._ Fayt attacked his intoxicating cavern mercilessly, greedily mapping out every sweet, addictive inch with his tongue as he committed it all to memory, purging the boy off his sins and innocence as he took it all in, quelling the flames of his guilt. But Roger felt neither love nor passion in Fayt's kiss, only an inherent despair. He fought against him, but Fayt held on stubbornly and he found himself giving in, helpless to his lover's ministrations. He would have moaned and responded in equal vigor if he didn't feel so betrayed.

And then Fayt's lips left his own as he felt someone grab him from behind and hoist him into their arms. The swordsman's fingers slipped away, hands suspended in mid-air while the guard carried the kicking and screaming Menodix away to the castle dungeons. Roger fought desperately, but to no avail, weaponless and physically weak after rousing from his comatose state.

"Fayt! – put me down ya big jerk! – _Fayt!"_ he cried, eyes shining with unshed tears. "Ya can still talk some sense into 'em! That weapon will kill everyone! Don't do this! _**Ya promised!**_ "

Fayt refused to turn around and face the sobbing boy, posture rigid and expression set in stone. As the guard carried Aquaria's new prisoner out of the bedroom, he could still hear Roger's cries echoing about the castle corridors. It was heartbreaking.

"Please! If ya don't stop them right now, my friends and family are gonna die! _Please, Fayt!_ "

Fayt did his best to close his ears to the sound of the humanoid's voice, but he could never quite stem the guilt and pain he felt in his heart. Nel wasn't kidding when she said this last job was something only he could do, but just knowing that he was the cause of Roger's sorrow served to wound him further. He bowed his head and finally allowed the tears to fall. He would never see the Menodix again, and their last moment together had been immortalized through betrayal. Roger would never trust him again, but at least the boy would live to see another day.

_We all got our missions._

A strong hand clasped his shoulder and he stiffened.

"You did the right thing, kid."

Fayt hurriedly wiped away his tears with the back of his hand and breathed deeply, composing himself.

"As long as he's safe, that's all that matters."

"You know you'll never see him again, right?"

Beautiful memories from days past flashed through his mind: him and Roger meeting for the first time and sharing that apple; the wide-eyed wonder in Roger's eyes when he showed the boy his school project; those hours spent together fixing said device; and watching the adorable Menodix fall asleep as he stroked his hair. He remembered Roger's sweet confession. Their first kiss. Their final moments in the palace baths. All the promises he wished he could keep...

"I know."

Cliff gave his shoulder a firm squeeze.

"It's time to go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took exceptionally long to write because of its heavily emotional content. I wanted to get everyone's feelings right, and with current developments, things can only get more dramatic from here on. I've been listening to Joe Hisaishi's "The Collapse of Laputa" on replay, and it really sets the mood for this point in the story. We're approaching the climax and soon, the end of Act One of this fanfic. That sounds long, doesn't it? For those of you who have enjoyed my story from the beginning and are still with me, I want to extend a special thanks to you. No story lives unless someone wants to listen, and I'm grateful for the support I've received in every little way, be it views, kudos or comments. Thanks guys.


	14. The Fall of Aquor (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to be split into two parts. There's a lot of things going on, all over the place, and affecting different groups of people.
> 
> Accompanying track for this chapter: "The Battle" by Harry Gregson-Williams
> 
> The full playlist for this story can be found on my profile.

"Nngh…"

Ameena shifted and fought to move her fingers, bone and muscle having grown heavy and numb from lack of activity. Her body, which had been deathly cold for the past 48 hours, gradually regained warmth and color with every passing second. She felt sunlight caress her skin and dance across her eyelids, and slowly she opened them, half expecting to find herself on the cobblestone roads of the royal city and the sight of white clouds floating overhead, but frowned when all she saw was a big black-and-white blotch against a stark white backdrop.

_Huh, how strange…_

Suddenly, the big blotch moved and a gentle voice spoke to her – a voice that had always lingered at the back of her mind; whispered to her during her times of loneliness, and one that she never thought she would hear again. It was that very voice that kept her going. That had her tirelessly threading Palmira blossom after blossom through her wishing charm day by day. That gave her hope in her hour of darkness.

"Ameena? Oh, Ameena, you're awake! Thank Apris…"

There it was again. But was it only in her head? She had to be sure.

It didn't take long for her vision to clear and when it did, the big blotch was no longer a shapeless entity, but the body of a young, bespectacled man with shoulder-length black hair. His eyes swam with relief and an uncontainable happiness, so much so that they shone through his unshed tears. And Ameena found herself mirroring the man's stare, her chest constricting as wave upon wave of raw emotion crashed against her, rendering her utterly helpless and at the same time, positively thrilled to be alive.

"D-Dion? Is that… really you?"

She reached out shakily and he grasped her fragile hand between his firm ones, slowly and gently bringing it up to his face where she laid it upon his cheek. The contact sent a pleasant jolt through her body. He wasn't an illusion. Tears sprang in her eyes.

"Oh, Dion… I'm so happy…" She trembled and he held onto her tighter. "I never thought I'd see you again. I wished… Every day I wished on my wishing charm, prayed to the Goddess Palmira to be with you… I'm so h-happy... Dion, my Dion…"

Tears flowed freely down Ameena's face as Dion gently thumbed them away, offering her a beautiful smile of his own. All her questions and worries, they didn't matter anymore: where she was, how she got here, her sickness… nothing did. As long as they were together, she never wanted anything else, and judging by the sheer love and desire in Dion's gaze she knew the feeling was mutual. Ameena hiccupped; the tears wouldn't stop, and Dion hushed her like one would a sweet child.

"Ameena – _my_ Ameena – please don't cry," he soothed while stroking her soft hair. "We're together now. Everything's going to be fine."

"Dion..."

Ameena slowly sat up and Dion couldn't stop himself from pulling the girl into a desperate embrace. Oh, he was well aware of her unstable condition, but he'd be damned if he allowed his friend to slip through his fingers again. Ameena smiled to herself as she fell against him, unresisting. She could feel it: his heat, his body, his heartbeat… everything that told her that he was alive and well. But when Dion showed no sign of letting her go, she giggled and that was enough to shock him to his senses as he hurriedly released her.

"D-Do forgive me," he stuttered, ashamed by his forwardness. "I hope I didn't frighten you. It's just – it's been _so long…"_

"Don't worry, I'm ok," she answered sweetly, but there was no way she was fooling him with that innocent smile of hers.

"Are you really?" he said with a worried frown. "The royal doctor said you have a serious illness – one without a cure."

Ameena bowed her head guiltily, fingering her quilt. Royal doctor? So, she was currently in a royal guest room, just as she suspected. Shyly, she lifted her gaze to take in her friend's elaborate uniform – Runologist robes. Huh, was he working directly under the Queen? Secretly, she grinned; that little boy genius with the huge glasses grew up to be someone remarkable after all. She never felt happier for him. Dion was living the life of a noble – a Class-A citizen of the richest city in Aquaria – and with his position as Researcher, his future would only get even _more_ promising.

But where would that leave her?

"I'm sorry for being a burden," she whispered sadly, bowing her head.

How could she be so foolish? Dion didn't have time for her, not when he had far more important things to do, discoveries to make, and people to meet. Meanwhile, she had no money, no family, and was probably weighing him down with her inevitable death…

Her eyes widened in surprise when Dion reached down to entwine his fingers with hers. Then, he brought her hand up to plant a tender kiss at the back of her palm. She flushed prettily.

"Please don't ever think that, Ameena." He lifted his gaze and their eyes met. "In fact, you're the very opposite – you're my strength."

"Dion…"

The chief researcher tugged her towards him, his free hand wrapping around her petite waist. Dark eyes bore into bright emerald, conveying a promise that had eluded them for many, many years. It was Dion who closed the gap between them as he pressed his forehead against Ameena's, so close that their noses almost touched. There, he whispered the words that she had been dying to hear since he walked out of Airyglyph forever.

"I love you, Ameena. I've _always_ loved you, and I _will_ always love you."

When the brunette began to tremble again, he smiled and cupped her cheeks with tender affection. "We'll live in the palace together, and I promise you that you'll _never_ have to be alone again. As soon as the war is over, we'll belong to each other; we'll start a family. And if… if you must go, you'll go in my arms and I'll give you my heart forever."

She couldn't breathe. Dion's words rendered her speechless and she was so overcome with emotion that she didn't even know where to start. But she eventually settled for clinging onto him as she smiled through her tears, radiant and beautiful.

_I love him... I love him!_

"Oh, Dion, I – " She stopped all of a sudden, finally remembering something.

The war… _Of course!_ That was why she was here in the first place! How could she forget? How long had she been out? She hoped she wasn't too late...

"I need to find Roger!"

Dion laughed. "Of course you need – Huh?"

He paused to regard her dumbly. Wait, what now? What the hell just happened? He thought they had something pretty good going on back there… And Ameena knew Roger?!

"Ameena, what's going on?" He gave her a suspicious stare.

"No time to explain!" And without so much of a warning, she threw off the quilt and much to Dion's alarm, hopped out of bed. "He and Fayt were on their way to see the Queen – "

She knew Fayt too?!

" – have you seen him? He's a humanoid with a big bushy tail; short, messy hair; goes up to about my thighs – his height that is – and has these really adorable kitty ears… I need to speak with him, it's important!"

"Ameena, calm down," Dion hushed as he held the girl steady by her shoulders. She was already starting to hyperventilate. "I don't know how you know Roger, but he's fine – well, he's in the dungeons, but he's fine. He was charged for the murder of innocent Aquarians after his people destroyed Arias two days ago. Her Majesty and the high court plan to use him as collateral if things don't end up in Aquaria's favor."

_Dungeons?_ _**Collateral?** _

"And what about Fayt?" she breathed hastily.

"He's spearheading the battle against Airyglyph and The Republic," came his ready reply. "Him and Lady Nel left with Aquarian troops about 20 minutes ago, along with the runological weapons."

He spread his arms and spoke excitedly. "Don't you see, Ameena? We'll win this war, the kingdoms will know peace, and we can finally be together again!"

_No, no, no! This wasn't supposed to happen! Fayt, you idiot!_

"Dion, listen to me," she urged with mounting panic, "after The Republic attacked Arias, they left Peterny a warning: surrender in 24 hours, or face the wrath of the Sanmite Militia. And do you know who delivered that threat? – she leveled Dion with a meaningful stare – Aznor Huxley, Prime Minister, and also Roger's father."

Dion's subsequent outburst wasn't that unexpected.

"The Prime Minister's fighting in this war?!"

This was unheard of! A nation's leader was placing himself in direct conflict with the enemy… not even King Arzei or Queen Romeria physically participated in their own wars. This was a move that would not only require special permission from the other ministers, but pertained high risks and severe consequences for the Sanmite Republic if they were to lose their main leader. Though he heard stories of how proficient Aznor was in combat and military strategy, it was extremely unusual for a figurehead to act so recklessly. It had to be for personal reasons…

Suddenly, Dion arrived at a horrible, startling realization that Fayt – correction – none of them had known about this beforehand. There was an extra hidden piece on the board and they were playing with a handicap. _No way_ could the swordsman handle Vox, Malroy, _and_ Aznor if they were to assault him at the same time. He'd die.

"And that's not all," she continued with a wavering voice. "When I saw the Prime Minister, he was wearing Roger's helmet."

Dion frowned at her words, momentarily confused. Roger had a helmet? But when he first met the Menodix, all he had on was that ridiculous blue shark hat.

"That helmet's very important to Roger. I don't know how the Prime Minister managed to get his hands on it, but something tells me The Republic joined hands with Airyglyph for personal reasons," said Ameena as she paced back-and-forth. "We need to get to Roger. He's the _only_ one who can talk some sense into his father." She stopped to meet Dion's stare. "Where's the battle taking place?"

"Aire Hills," he replied automatically, stunned by Ameena's forwardness. "W-Well, that's the plan at least. Lady Nel wants the fight to take place on enemy turf to reduce damage to national property and protect Aquarian lives."

"Then we don't have much time."

Ameena whirled around and headed straight for the door. Dion stumbled after her, his mind reeling. The girl wasn't supposed to be exerting herself, much less out of bed.

"Ameena – _wait!_ What are you doing?!"

She paused and turned her head to shoot him a determined stare.

"Saving Aquor."

Then, she flung the door open and raced down the palace corridor.

* * *

"Lemme out, ya stinker!"

Roger banged on the steel bars of his prison cell with his shark helm. Granted, it made him look utterly ridiculous, but that was the hardest thing he had in his possession right now. He had zero firepower, and his axe along with his other weapons had been confiscated. And to make matters worse, the stupid guard on duty was one terribly boring conversationalist.

"Shut up _,_ traitor!"

Mean too.

"But I keep tellin' ya, I didn't do nuttin!"

"I said _shut up!_ " The guard whirled around and smashed his spear against the bars, nearly crushing Roger's fingers. "Your people went back on that isolation policy of yours. You destroyed Arias; you _murdered_ my wife and children! For all we know, you barbarians have sided with Airyglyph all along!"

"That's not true!" Roger screamed in retaliation, angry tears prickling his eyes. "Don't call us that! I didn't know their motives! I haven't even seen or spoken ta my family fer a week!"

"And why should I be – " But something struck the back of the guard's head and he crumpled onto the ground, unconscious.

Ameena stood in his place, fierce determination shining in her big green eyes, her mouth set in a thin line. In her hands was a torch, which she probably grabbed from the prison walls used to strike the guard.

Roger's jaw fell open in complete shock. When did she – why did she – _how did she even get here?!_ Wasn't she supposed to be in Peterny? When did she arrive at Aquois? And how did she know where to find him? Was this really Ameena or did his brain conjure up some strange vision in his period of desperation? Also, he never knew the girl had a single violent bone in her body. Out of all the people he could think of, he never expected the sweet and frail flower girl to come to his rescue.

"Oh no! Did I hit him too hard? I'm really sorry, sir, but my friend needs my help. Ahhh… I'm a bad person!"

Roger sighed in exasperation. Yep. _That's_ the Ameena he knew and loved alright.

"Ameena, what're ya doin' here?! How did ya find me?"

"There's no time for that," she answered hastily as she dug through the guard's pockets for his keys. "Fayt and the rest of Aquaria's troops are headed for Aire Hills. If we hurry, we can stop them before either nation declares the first attack."

At the mention of Fayt's name, Roger flinched away from the bars and growled through his teeth. "I don't ever wanna hear that guy's name again!"

The betrayal he felt in his heart was overwhelming. The swordsman took advantage of him. He _trusted_ him unquestionably, but it was all for naught. Fayt rhymed so prettily and swept him off his feet with his charm, empty words and false promises. And like an idiot, he believed him.

Ameena paused to regard him in shock. Back at Peterny when Roger had gone on and on about Fayt, she had been so sure that there was nothing but pure love and admiration in his heart, so unlike the hostility she was hearing now. And she knew for certain that Fayt loved Roger more than life itself, so… She wondered what happened between them. But now wasn't the time to deal with matters of the heart, so she waved the whole thing off.

"Anyway, Roger, listen carefully – she inserted the key into the lock, turned it, and tugged the cell doors open – you need to get to Aire Hills quickly. Your father is fighting in this war, and you're the only one who can stop him and his army. If you don't, lots of people are going to die."

"My… pops?" Roger whispered to himself in disbelief.

That couldn't be right. Why would his pops willingly put himself in danger like that? After all, wasn't he the guy who was always so concerned with hiding? If anything were to happen to him from this war, the Sanmite Republic would lose both its leader and main figurehead. Their country would surely fall apart.

"That's not all," Ameena cautioned, "He's wearing your helmet, Roger. Your old helmet."

"My old helmet? But I lost that thing back at…" He stopped short, realization hitting him dead-smack in the face. Kirlsa... No, it couldn't be…

" _If you leave this village and cross the borders to Aquarian_ _ **or**_ _Airyglyph territory, if they_ _ **see**_ _you, you'll be signaling to those nations the Sanmite Republic's participation in this war!"_

This whole time... the Sanmite-Airyglyph alliance; the fall of Arias; the deaths of Clair and all those soldiers and innocent lives; the sacrifices of his people; and the bad blood forged between three nations…

" _For the last time Roger S. Huxley, you are_ _ **not**_ _allowed to leave this village!"_

Was all because of him.

"I shouldn't have left home."

Ameena's gaze softened into one of sympathy. It seemed her suspicions were correct. She lowered herself to the Menodix's level and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. There was only so much guilt a young boy could take. Her support was greatly appreciated. Roger forced down his shame and lifted his head to meet her eyes in fierce determination. The Real Man contest that cost him his friends continued to haunt him. He wasn't going to abandon his people and family; he refused to have their blood spilt because of his past mistakes, and he wasn't going to run away. Not this time. 'Not all battles can be won, but to conquer fear is in itself a battle already won.' – that had been Nel's words. He didn't know what a small Menodix could do, but he knew he had to try.

"I need ta make things right," he declared, more to himself than anyone else. "But I need my stuff."

Suddenly, something crashed noisily at his feet and they gave a start. Roger stared blankly at the pile of metal and his battle-axe. His landmines, retractable whip, shield and canon – all accounted for.

"Then what are we waiting for?" said a new voice, hands on his hips and a smirk on his face. "Let's get you to the battlefront."

"Dion!" they cried in unison, both surprised and relieved to see the chief researcher on their side. However, no one was happier than Ameena. So, her dear friend had come through after all. Admittedly, she had her doubts before, but here Dion was displaying a new wave of courage she had never seen before. The nervous, awkward little boy had really grown into a dependable man and she couldn't be prouder.

"But Dion… aren't you an Aquarian?" Roger wondered, confused and wary. "If ya keep me here, Aquaria can win."

Dion shook his head. "Actually, I'm a Glyphian – he spared a glance at Ameena – we both are."

"Then why?" whispered Roger, utterly perplexed by this new information.

"When I began work on the Thunder Arrow, it wasn't to secure victory for Aquaria," Dion struggled to explain himself, "but to put an end to this war and establish peace. Aquaria simply provided me the means necessary to conduct my research." He crossed towards Ameena and grasped her hands lovingly as he gazed deep into her big green eyes. "All I wanted was to see my dear friend again."

"Dion…" Ameena choked,

"But this isn't the peace I envisioned." He released her hands and stepped away. "Now, all three nations will come together in a deadly clash. Each will stop at nothing until the other completely falls. Airyglyph will fight for supremacy; Sanmite will fight for vengeance; and Aquaria will fight for survival. Either way, we're talking about the death of millions and the total eradication of at least one kingdom."

"Not if I can help it," said Roger, all geared up and ready to go. "I've lived all my life wishin' fer an Aquor, and I refuse ta die before I make that dream a reality. I want my friends back. I want my family back. I want my freedom back. And I want my _country_ back." He removed the helm Fayt had given him, glared at it resentfully, before tossing it aside. "I'll be my own champion. This fightin' stops now!"

The uncharacteristic ferocity in the young humanoid's voice both surprised and moved Dion, but the man was quick to collect himself.

"Then you can count me in. I sent the guards on a wild goose chase, but it's only a matter of time before they figure out something's up. We can use the palace horses to make up for lost time."

"You can count me in too!"

Both Dion and Roger turned to stare at Ameena in absolute mortification.

"But Ameena, you can't – you're ill and in _no condition_ to –"

But Roger was quick to cut off Dion as he forced himself between the couple. _Grrr_... This stupid girl wasn't thinking straight and as a friend, he felt it was his responsibility to bring her head out of the cloud and back onto her shoulders.

"Geez, you're even _more_ of a moron than when I first met ya!" He yelled and jabbed her knee with a finger (he was too short to reach her chest). "Think fer a sec, would ya? If ya _die_ out there, you'll be kissin' yer dreams goodbye! What 'bout Dion? What 'bout yer _future_?!"

"There won't _be_ any future if choose to do nothing!" Ameena screamed in return, her sudden outburst shocking Roger to silence. She breathed in deeply to compose herself, hands fisted and shaking by her sides. She fixed the boy she had cared for during the days in Peterny – quite arguably her best friend too – with a hard stare.

"I've made up my mind to be with Dion, and that includes this battle. Wherever he rides, _I_ ride." She shot him a beautiful smile, one that radiated confidence and conviction, and he blushed. "Also – she returned her gaze to Roger – I won't leave you, Roger. Not when you need me most. Just like when _you_ didn't leave me when _I_ needed you most."

Memories of that fateful night in Peterny flashed through Roger's mind with vivid clarity. How Ameena had almost died. How he saved her life with his healing powers. How he chose to stay by her side for as long as she lived (before Albel's arrival changed everything of course). Memories that felt like only yesterday rushed at his consciousness and moved him beyond words. His bottom lip trembled and he felt tears gather in his eyes, but he lowered his head and concealed them behind the shadow of his hair. A real man didn't cry.

"Heh. Ya really are summin special, ya know that?" he sniffed, swiping at his nose with the end of his sleeve.

True, he was scared. He was afraid of failure; he was afraid of death. But suddenly, somehow, with these guys by his side, he didn't feel so afraid anymore.

Meanwhile, Dion was having his own internal battle against himself as his mind went over Ameena's words. On one hand, he would feel a lot better if she remained in the palace; her safety was of the utmost importance to him. On the other hand, as the girl's childhood friend, he respected her decision, and he knew her long enough to know that when a stubborn Ameena set her mind to something, there was no way of convincing her otherwise. In a way, she and Roger had a lot in common. No wonder they were such close friends.

"Alright," he muttered, as if finally arriving at a conclusion against his inner monologue, "but I just received an update that Airyglyph and Sanmite have started to move. We better hurry!"

"Right!"

The trio scaled the dungeon steps and made a mad dash towards the stables.

* * *

" _The enemy has advanced past Kirlsa. Expect vision in approximately 8 minutes. All hostilities accounted for: Vox, Malroy, the Dragon Brigade, the Black Brigade, the Winged Cavalry, the Mages, the – "_

"Argh, give me numbers, Mirage. I can't do shit with names."

"… _Roger. I'm seeing some witches, centaurs, unicorns, mermaids and other woodland creatures as well. We're looking at about a 15,000-strong army – pause – Good luck, guys."_

"Copy that."

Cliff lowered his hand from his ear and turned to regard his company. Fayt had been eerily silent throughout the entire report, constantly kicking up gravel at his feet and drumming his fingers across his sword's hilt in impatience. The blue haired teenager hadn't said a word since they left Aquois and to be honest, Cliff had no idea what was going through the youth's mind. Normally, Fayt would have a billion worries by now; moral dilemmas; self-righteous preaching, and wouldn't hesitate to sound them off for the whole world to hear and painfully sit through (at least to Cliff anyway)… but the kid changed, grew serious. He wondered what triggered this switch in personality; after all, he thought news about his father would have made Fayt positively ecstatic. Nel in contrast, was a lot easier to read. The Aquarian had received the update with calm acceptance, straightened up and turned to address her fellow soldiers and runologists. Her hands were placed firmly on her hips as she delivered her speech with fire and conviction. However, it took someone who knew her both inside and out like Cliff to see that her bravado was merely a cover for her own terror and inherent desperation.

"Listen up everyone: we are Aquaria's final line of defense. If we don't stop Airyglyph and Sanmite where they stand, they will lay siege to Peterny and take the Royal City in one fell swoop!" She looked upon her army's crestfallen faces, expressions laced with fear and doubt. "Yes, we're outnumbered. Yes, things seem hopeless. But we have something our enemy doesn't – camaraderie."

When the troops' expressions began to change, she saw it as a good sign to press on, their strength and growing hope giving her hope as well. The faces of her father, Clair, Tynave and Farleen flashed through her mind. She refused to go down without a fight.

"We don't fight here today out of duty; we fight for love. Love for our kingdom. Our comrades. Our families. Our future… and our lives. Numbers alone do not tell of battles won – the souls of champions do. Their army might be strong, but our hearts are stronger. Every single one of you right here _can_ make a difference between victory and defeat."

Nel unsheathed her dagger and raised it to the skies.

"Apris smiles upon her children today! My brothers and sisters, let us march towards victory and bring eternal peace and prosperity to this land, this world, and all of its children! Let us stand up against Airyglyph and Sanmite's tyranny and pave the way to a better, brighter and kinder future! We shall be bullied no more – who's with me?!"

The crowd erupted into a chorus of loud cheers; soldiers thrust their spears and swords into the air and chanted the words "Long live Aquaria!" over and over. As Nel hushed her troops and went over the game plan one more time, Fayt suddenly released a low chuckle, which effectively got Cliff's attention.

"What, you losing your grip or something?" he said with a frown to which Fayt shook his head at. The teen never once removed his gaze from Nel's person as he continued to watch her belt out orders. She had really come a long way.

"Just look at her." And Cliff did so with a mild smile. "Did you ever expect our escort to become Commander of an entire army?"

"Can't say that I did, kid," he replied with a chuckle of his own as he gazed at the woman he loved with pride. He recalled the day Nel rescued them from Airyglyph's dungeons and how her mysterious smile had incited excitement and a passion within him that he hadn't felt since he first founded Quark. They had really gone through alot together these past few days.

"Now I'm _really_ worried she might actually be able to kill me."

Fayt laughed despite the gravity of their situation. "Well then, you best stop looking at other beautiful women."

"Hah, maybe."

Fayt's smile disappeared and his tone turned serious. "Have you said your goodbyes?"

Cliff shut his eyes and despite the smirk on his lips, it was obvious Fayt's question affected the Klausian a lot more than it showed.

"Kid, I don't do goodbyes." He allowed his gaze to linger on Nel's form a little longer, committing every curve, every precious detail that made the Aquarian so special to him, to memory. "The quicker we leave, the less painful it'll be for everyone."

Roger's face flashed through Fayt's mind and he nodded in solemn agreement. "Yeah."

"Sir Fayt, Sir Cliff?" a soldier interrupted, saluting them. "We need you in position."

"Oh, right."

Fayt and Cliff moved to stand in the middle of a cluster of soldiers and runologists stationed at the front line. They surrounded the pair like an iron wall, their sole purpose to charge up-front straight into enemy lines, while guiding Fayt and Cliff as far out onto the battlefield as possible in order to penetrate Vox and Malroy's command center. Among all those present, Fayt and Cliff were the most proficient combatants as well as the hardiest; not to mention Nel hoped to put the young swordsman's remarkable symbology to full use. The goal was simple: take down Vox and Malroy as quickly as possible before more lives were lost. Unfortunately, with the combined forces of the enemy outnumbering them at a ridiculous 3 to 1, that was easier said than done.

"Lady Nel, up on the hill! Look!"

All eyes turned and the sight that played out before their eyes effectively chased away all the faith and conviction Nel's speech had inspired but a few minutes ago.

At the top of the great hill emerged Minister Malroy on the back of a vicious Dire Wolf, his razor-sharp metal claws grasping the snarling creature's reigns as he slowed it to a crawl. His feline features and confident disposition screamed arrogance, as if already certain about the battle's outcome that was naturally in their favor. Flying above him on an air dragon was none other than the warlord himself, Duke Vox, who raised a gloved hand and closed his fingers in a fist. On command, Airyglyph's Dragon Brigade emerged, the powerful winged beasts sending a great ripple across the battlefield with their roars. The dragons and their riders flanked him on either side and behind, all airborne and easily over five dozen of them. On the ground next to Malroy, the Black Brigade took their positions, each knight armed with heavy and lethal weaponry; and standing with them were members of the Siege Corps, Sanmite's deadliest warriors. Positioned just beyond the front line ground troops were the Battle Mages – Sanmite's Mystics and renowned sorcerers – the army's main magic damage dealers. And with the alliance of the humanoid nation came the indispensable support from the forests as well: centaurs armed with bows and arrows; chimeras from the dessert; crystal mermaids wielding deadly ice blades; witches on broomsticks; unicorns and their riders; griffins; lions; wolves; trees that moved, and many more monsters as far as the eye could see. Finally, armored Featherfolkian of the Winged Cavalry descended from the skies to complete the deadly ensemble.

Some soldiers began to sob, while others had despair creeping into their features. Vox took in the _glorious_ sight of Aquaria's pathetic army with pride. The hopeful light in their eyes were quickly diminishing one by one and he relished every moment of it. His victory was in near-sight; he could practically _taste_ the glory of his soon-to-be empire and military legacy. Oh, Albel would have _loved_ to see this; after all, this had been the wicked one's vision from the start… Too bad the boy was spending the rest of his godforsaken life rotting in the castle dungeons. And with Glou's son finally out of the way, he could claim what was rightfully his, what _should_ have been his from the very start – the throne. Glou had always been popular with the people and the Royal family, and when he died the man was given a funeral service fit for a king. But now _he_ was in-charge and he'd do what his ex-captain had failed to accomplish in his lifetime – conquering the holy lands. It was no wonder both father and son had failed to get this far; they might have been the best in their field, but they were _weak._ Just like their King.

Vox laughed in cruel spite. He couldn't care less about his incompetent nephew; anyone who concerned themselves over the welfare of their enemies was a fool and unfit to rule Airyglyph. In fact, he wouldn't even be surprised if Arzei remained oblivious to a revolt forming behind his back. Blood was thicker than water, but power and capability did the _real_ talking. On this battlefield, _he_ was King. It didn't matter if Aquaria had that special weapon of theirs. Under the combined forces of Airyglyph and The Sanmite Republic, their army would only drop like flies and when that happened, not just Aquaria, but all of Gaitt would belong to him.

"Stand tall and draw your weapons!" Nel commanded as she paced the front line of her battalion. "If we die, we die with honor."

Her gaze traveled across her entire military outfit: at her commanding officers; soldiers; runologists; artillery; and finally at Fayt and Cliff. She took in their expectant stares and for the briefest moment, a look of trepidation flashed across her eyes. She knew she was asking a lot from them.

"Guys, I..."

"Nel."

She met Cliff's smile. Absently, she wondered how in Apris the crazy blonde could smile at a time like this, especially when their side was at a hilarious disadvantage, but at the same time, just seeing that smile, seeing that strength and trust in his beautiful blue eyes, gave her all the encouragement and faith she needed. And for that, for her very meeting with these Greeton engineers and her love for Cliff, she was grateful.

"We're with you all the way," he said, and she knew he meant every word.

"And we'll fight for you," added Fayt, "because we're comrades."

Forcing her tears down, Nel gave them a firm nod and turned to face the enemy. She was ready for them; she didn't fear death.

"Thanks, guys."

On the hill, a centaur blew his horn, and there arose a great shout, "Glory to Airyglyph!"

Cliff turned to Fayt and said with a wry smirk, "Any plans on dying today?"

Fayt's grip around his sword tightened. "None whatsoever."

Nel pulled back her lips in a scream.

" _CHARGE!"_

Both sides met in a fearsome clash. Air dragons opened fire as they swooped down to form a raging wall of flames on the battlefield. But heading Aquarian troops were the runologists, who effortlessly passed through the inferno with their ice magic and began their assault on the dragon riders. Aquarian soldiers followed swiftly after to support them, but the Black Knights and Siege Corps denied them any chance of an advantage, meeting the troops head on with their weapons, initiating blows and pushing against each other, relentless and aggressive.

Aire Hills exploded into full-blown chaos. Spells, arrows, fire, and great beams of light tore through the air and rained down on the three armies. Griffins flew overhead and released large rocks to crush oncoming Aquarians and disperse tightly formed groups. Artillery did the same with the power of the two Thunder Arrows on Nel's every signal. Earth and dust flew into the air, the explosions ripping through the ground and causing the land to quake, but the three kingdoms turned a deaf ear to Gaitt's screams. Runologists decimated the moving wall of grape vines and weeping willows with their fireballs, but it was an empty victory. The humanoids broke through the charred remains on the backs of unicorns and hacked through the bodies with their swords. Aquarian blood gushed forth and stained the earth a deep red, and the warriors of Sanmite continued their advance without a shred of mercy. Battle mages chanted in their circles, their powerful summons leaving them vulnerable to enemy assault. An Aquarian unit surged forward to drive their spears and swords through the humanoid sorcerers, but the Black Knights were quick to respond and intercept the attacks, protecting the remaining mages and maintaining the upper hand. With their weapons far surpassing the strength of their opponents' regular ones, the Black Brigade broke through the soldiers' defenses and slaughtered them where they stood.

"Fire!"

A beam of yellow light pierced the air. It was a direct hit at the center of the Black Brigade unit. The blast threw up earth and bodies, steel armor offering little to no protection against the Thunder Arrow's might. It was an instant kill.

Up on the hill, Duke Vox was seething.

"My knights are getting slaughtered by that blasted weapon!" He turned to shoot a harsh glare at his partner. "You said your army was more than enough to send these Aquarian swine to an early grave. Don't just gape, fool – do something!"

Malroy hissed and delivered a quick swipe at the duke with his claws, but Vox was quick to pull back.

"I do not answer to a _Glyphian –_ he sneered at that term like it was something vile – and unlike you, Vox, my plan involves more than just shouting."

The Fellpool turned his attention to the skies.

"Winged Cavalry, assume attack formation _Shooting Star! -_ his expression turned deadly - Take down those weapons!"

* * *

"Scatter!"

Aquarian soldiers threw themselves out of the way and narrowly avoided a slew of poison needles cast from a band of witches. The girls giggled as they tormented the troops with their spells, which ranged from fire to earth. The battalion rearranged themselves into an offensive, but before its unit's commanding officer could call for an attack, a group of air dragons swooped in and began picking at the soldiers like fresh spoils, hurling them high into the air only to let them fall to their doom. The remaining team struggled for survival.

"My apologies, boys, but this is as far as my men can take you," the officer said through gritted teeth as he fought to fend off the claws of an air dragon.

"Suits me fine," answered Cliff as he and Fayt readied themselves in a sprint.

"May the grace of Apris be with you." The officer returned his attention to the field. "On the count of 3… 2… 1… _Break formation!"_

Fayt and Cliff pushed through the wall of soldiers and sprinted across the battlefield, choice weapons drawn and ready to do some serious damage. However, it was only when they crossed the middle ground and breached enemy lines did the horrid realization of their current reality dawn upon Fayt. He was fighting in a war; the blood, carnage, and destruction... all this was really happening. It wasn't a game. Fayt's chest constricted painfully and his lungs felt like they were on fire; he had never run this fast in his life. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and he could hear the deafening pounding of blood in his ears. Every inhale and exhale seemed louder and felt exceptionally obvious to him, like he was hearing the world and himself through a tunnel. The faces of enemies, his actions and all the noise around him became nothing more than a shapeless blend of sound and color. Every swing of his blade, the blood he drew forth, and every gurgle from a fallen opponent as their lives faded from their eyes, was a huge blur to Fayt. He wasn't seeing, wasn't thinking. All he knew was that he needed to get to the enemy control center and fast. Nel and the Queen were counting on him; his love for Roger kept him focused on the task at hand. Everything else was irrelevant.

"Ice coffin!"

Two crystal mermaids launched their attack in a bid to freeze the swordsman, but Fayt was faster and imbued his blade with his symbology. Flames rushed along the sword's length, melting the ice; and with a smirk, he charged the crystal maidens and shattered their armor and blades of ice in one fell swoop. Lined up nicely and left vulnerable, he focused his energy in his next move and pierced straight through their torsos with his sword in a single thrust. They let out twin screams, blue blood oozing out their wounds. Fayt withdrew his blade with a grunt and the bodies fell to the ground in a lifeless heap. He reached up and wiped away the blood splatters on his cheek. The Sanmite army was going to have to do better than that.

Meanwhile, Cliff had his hands full with a chimera, holding onto the fangs of one of its heads as the beast tried to clamp its jaws around him. He pushed against it, arms shaking from the strain, and with a great yell he lifted it up, twisted its head and slammed it onto the ground. The chimera struggled to stand upright with its remaining two heads, but Cliff wasn't having any of it. Executing his trademark _Hammer of Might_ move, he pounded the beast into the ground before it could get up, creating a massive crater where it lay. The monster remained on its side in a mass of fur and twitching limbs as it suffered from the aftershock. And to put it out of its misery, Cliff grabbed its flaming tail at the base, flung it onto its body, and set it on fire.

Fayt flicked his sword to get some of the blood off and turned to address the blonde, but screamed and pitched forward when an arrow lodged itself into his thigh.

_"Argh!"_

His sword fell from his grip and clattered noisily on the ground. A burning pain shot up his leg and he collapsed onto his knees, breathing sharply through his teeth. The cloth around the area where the arrow entered his flesh was quickly turning a deep red.

_Shit._

Not too far off, a centaur lowered his bow and traded it for the scabbard at his side. His eyes honed in on the injured teen. So, this was the blue-haired engineer that started this whole mess. Because of him and that stupid contraption, the Prime Minister's son was in danger and by extension, threatened the Sanmite Republic's peace and sovereignty. He figured Aznor wouldn't mind if he served the boy's head to their General once this whole war was through.

The centaur charged with a yell, but before he could swing his blade, Cliff dashed between them, grabbed the centaur by the front, and using his momentum against him, lifted and hurled him some distance off. The centaur crashed into a group of advancing Black Knights, but the Klausian wasn't too keen on wasting his energy on a bunch of pushovers.

"Need a hand?" He offered, to which Fayt grabbed and he helped the teen to his feet. There was an obvious limp in his step. Cliff frowned at him in concern.

"Think you can keep going?"

Fayt chuckled, "Heh, this?" Clenching his jaw and steeling himself, he reached down and holding back a scream, yanked the bloodied arrow out from his leg. "This is nothing." He tossed it aside.

Cliff ripped off the end of one of Fayt's pants leg and tied the cloth around the wound to stem the blood flow. At the same time, the swordsman's gaze traveled across the battlefield and seemed to be fixed on an invisible endpoint beyond the chaos. The real battle hadn't started yet, and the sooner it did, the sooner all this fighting and meaningless violence could stop. He could minimize the casualties, help Aquaria establish peace, and leave this planet while hopefully earning Roger's forgiveness in the years to come...

Well, here's to wishing for the impossible.

"C'mon, Cliff. Let's end this."

* * *

_Ok,_ _**whose** _ _idea was it again to ride to battle on horseback?_

Roger wrapped his arms around Ameena's waist and held on for dear life. Oh, how he _hated_ horses... Ok, fine, he didn't hate them so much as he hated riding _on_ them. Something about them just made him nervous, plus he always had a feeling those animals had a vendetta against him, including the unicorns back home in Sanmite. Otherwise they wouldn't throw him off every time he climbed on them, which explained why he was riding _with_ Ameena instead of having one to himself.

"Peterny's South exit is sealed off!" cried Ameena, slowing her horse to a stop. "Aquarian troops must have boarded it up from the other side."

"Then we'll make our own exit – _Yah!"_

Dion struck his horse with the reigns and it reeled back on its hind legs with a shrill neigh. Realizing his plan, Ameena did the same while Roger commenced his second freak-out session of the hour.

"No, no, no, noooooo!"

The horses crashed through the wooden gates and they resumed their course, racing through _Palmira Plains_ at lightning speed. It suddenly occurred to them that they had just smashed through Peterny's only line of defense and though pathetic, it begged the question as to why. Where were the guards? And why weren't some of the troops positioned by _Sanmite Steppes_ as Nel had originally planned? Dion's heart raced. Was Aquaria losing?

Then, he looked up.

"Look over there!"

"Where?!"

Ameena tugged at the reigns and the horse jerked forward to a sudden stop. Something crashed against her back and she turned to face her friend in alarm. "Roger, are you alright?"

The poor boy moaned, his vision spinning. His hair looked like it exploded and his face had turned a nasty shade of green. Urgh… he was going to be sick...

"There! Over the hills!" Dion indicated in the distance.

And that was when they saw it: numerous beams of gold light streaked down from the skies, the impact from the blasts shaking the earth. But following after came a resounding ' **BOOM!** ' as an even bigger and brighter burst of energy shot upwards in retaliation. It not only overpowered the other lights, but consumed them as well, triggering a massive explosion upon contact. They could feel the tremors from where they stood. The war had already begun; they were too late.

Roger and Dion gaped at the spectacle, a similar thought running through their heads: _The Thunder Arrow… it really works! …_ Before horror started to sink in and they feared for the worst.

"That was Sanmite's Winged Cavalry," said Roger, voice shaking in trepidation. He couldn't believe how a single shot from the weapon he helped build, was all it took to tip the scales. "Guys, I gotta get ta my pops quickly or more people are gonna die!"

"Then hang on tight." Ameena readied her stead, excitement shining in her eyes. "Because I'm not going to hold back."

Before Dion could caution her against overexertion, Ameena shot past him with a screaming Roger in tow, straight towards the old site of Arias.

* * *

" _Fayt, how're you doing?"_

"Not good!"

He blocked a Glyphian's sword and delivered a roundhouse kick to the knight's neck. The man stumbled, momentarily winded, and Fayt seized his window to charge him with his sword and break the knight's armor. His opponent tried to retaliate with his own weapon, but at such close proximity, his heavy, beefed up broadsword proved more slow and bulky than lethal, so Fayt struck him across the chest before the Black Knight could even swing his own weapon. The blow was quick and critical, and the Glyphian flew and skidded across the ground to stop in an unconscious heap by his fellow fallen comrades. Panting, Fayt straightened up with the support from his sword and re-established connection with Nel.

"We can't penetrate their defense and get to Vox and Malroy. There's too many of them!"

He was breathing harshly, that leg wound significantly slowing him down and making his head spin. Though he wasn't 100% vulnerable, he wasn't nearly as tough as his Klausian partner either. One false move, one careless execution, and it could land him more injuries. He couldn't afford to take another hit.

Unbeknownst to Fayt, another Black Knight tried to get him from the back, but Cliff charged in and delivered a swift and hard punch to the guy's, uh, face. Never mind the technicalities; the front of the helmet received a massive dent anyway, so it probably hit home and dealt some pretty nasty damage.

"Double time, kid! Let's go!"

"Right!"

Fayt stumbled a few paces before suddenly slumping over from exhaustion. Damn, his leg was hurting like a bitch. If it weren't for Cliff's stellar reflexes, he would have been eating dirt and blood by now. The older male cursed, draped Fayt's arm across his shoulders and supported the teen upright. Then he raised his free hand to his ear and pressed a button on his communicator.

"Mirage, you there? Talk to me!"

" _I hear you. What's happening?"_

"The kid's at his last legs, but we're nowhere close to enemy base."

" _And what would you have me do?"_

"We need backup, woman!" he yelled over the clash of metal and explosions. "Fayt's bleeding here. We need an opening."

" _Copy that. Hang in there, guys."_

* * *

"It's not working!" Vox turned a sharp eye to Malroy. "It's obvious your Winged Cavalry are no match against Greeton's technology. The Featherfolkian are dropping like flies."

"Well, I don't see _your_ precious Dragon Brigade do any better," Malroy countered accusingly.

Vox snorted and turned his nose up at the Defense Minister's childish rebuttal.

"Humph, if you want something done, do it yourself."

"Go ahead then. I'll just sit here and watch you get yourself killed!"

"Malroy, that's enough," interrupted a new voice as its speaker emerged from a group of Siege Corps warriors to stand between the two war commanders. "If you spent less time coming up with catty comebacks and more time re-working your strategies, you would've secured our victory sooner."

The Menodix's words greatly pleased Vox, who returned his advice with a compliment.

"Ah, Prime Minister… Wise words indeed. I was beginning to tire of your house cat's yowling."

"Duke Vox," Aznor Huxley acknowledge with a curt nod, while doing his best to ignore that jab at his fellow colleague and best friend. "Your worries are unfounded. There's time to turn this battle around - he gave him a hard stare - I hope you remember our bargain."

Vox chuckled and said, "Of course. You'll see your boy again - unharmed and very much alive."

" _Aznor -_ " Malroy began desperately, but was silenced by a wave of his leader's hand.

Those were comforting enough words to him. Aznor took a few steps forward, folded his arms behind his back, and gazed out at the battle taking place at the foot of the hill from where they stood.

"Aquaria's weapon may be powerful, but it's useless in close-range – he turned to regard Vox – once our ground troops reach artillery and slaughter those runologists and their Commander, victory will be ours."

He returned his attention to the fight, specifically at a certain redhead Aquarian manning the _Thunder Arrows._ Then his gaze travelled across the field until it landed on a blue-haired boy and his blonde companion, fast approaching.

"It's only a matter of time."

* * *

" _Nel, it's Mirage. Can you hear me?"_

At artillery, Nel paused in the middle of her commands and touched the communicator at her ear.

"I hear you. What's going on over there? Are Fayt and Cliff all right?"

" _Listen, we're going to do some crowd control. I'm giving you some coordinates. They're approximates, but it should be enough to give the opening Fayt and Cliff need. Don't miss."_

The last part was a warning and although the good kind, Nel couldn't help but feel slightly irritated by the older woman's choice of words. What did she take her for, a novice? Of course she understood the delicacy of the situation. She knew what she was doing and she would prove it too. She motioned at the runologists handling the Thunder Arrow closest to her.

"Ok, we're good to go."

" _30 degrees right; 0.5 metres elevation; 20 degrees down. Fire when ready."_

Nel relayed the instructions to her team, but the cries from her subordinates made her stop dead in her tracks. Not too far off, a group of injured runologists screamed for backup as they desperately stumbled away from three humanoid mages and their frightful golem summons of fire and ice. Nel gasped; she recognized those golems, remembered them clearly from those carefree days of spring long past, remembered how she herself oversaw that particular wolf-boy's growth as a fantastic sorcerer. But instead of practice or the sheer fun of play, the innocence and childish intent was gone and those magical visions of nostalgia turned into monsters built for the sole purpose of war. Between those beautiful memories and the present, she chose the now where her people and their lives – Aquarian flesh and blood – came first. And so, it became clear on what it was she needed to do.

_Crowd control can wait._

"Out of the way!" She shoved aside the runologist handling the nearest Thunder Arrow and took the woman's place.

Getting behind the controls, Nel operated the weapon for the very first time and though unfamiliar with its functions, had observed enough to grasp the basic mechanism behind it. There was no time to play guessing games with coordinates; if she didn't act now, she'd lose more of her men to the arms of Death. And as high commander of this army, it was her duty to bring home as many soldiers as possible – alive. It was time for her to do something herself. She peered through the viewing scope and took aim. Her thumb hovered over the button, shaking, hesitating for a split second...

This was Roger's best friend. She had been Lieutenant Nel. They grew up together; played together. All of them. Nel swallowed and closed the door of that particular memory forever.

_I'm sorry._

She fired the shot. It hit the small group of mages dead center, the blast scattering them apart. Amidst the gravel and dust, a small wolf-boy struggled onto his elbows, blinking rapidly to clear his vision and restore his senses. His ears were still ringing, and the sudden trickle of warmth down the side of his face was sure indication that he was bleeding... But he had survived. He had lived to see another day, to fight on and bring Roger, his crazy brother, home.

_I can still fight._

Suddenly, someone screamed. It was his father. Melt turned his head weakly to the source. His father had stopped screaming and was now moaning and sobbing the words "Oh God" over and over. Melt didn't understand it; as an astronomer and atheist, since when did his father ever subscribe to the idea of God? However, when the dust finally cleared along with his vision, his father's grief and suffering hit him as hard as that previous blast. Lying motionless in his father's arms and face streaked with blood, was his mother. Her big, lifeless eyes stared up at the sky, unseeing; her chest no longer rose and fell with every breath. As Melt watched his father kiss her forehead and bury his face against her bloody cheek; as he heard his father sob the words "Why did you do it, why did you do it?" in a hopeless and heartbroken mantra, Melt finally understood that his mother had sacrificed herself and taken the hit for them.

It was only after his father passed his hand over her face to shut her eyelids, when it finally dawned upon Melt that he would never see his mother and wake up to her kind smiles again.

_"MOM!"_

And his whole world crumbled.

* * *

Nel relinquished her grip on the controls and stepped away with tears in her eyes. Her lips trembled and every breath left her mouth in shallow, shaky gasps. Despite the guilt weighing heavily on her heart, she refused to let those tears fall, to expose her emotional vulnerability. She was Nel Zelpher, daughter of Neville Zelpher; friend of the Lasbards; Aquarian; and High Commander of the Aquarian Army. She had a reputation and duty to uphold. She saved her runologists and aided her soldiers. She fought in the name of the Queen and her country.

But why did her heart hurt so much?

Why did things have to be this way?

Eight months ago when she last stepped foot onto Surferio, she had made a vow: to lend her strength and fight in this war, bring about peace, so as to guard the lives of the six humanoid children she had grown to care for and call her family. She walked out of their lives in order to protect them, yet here she was dealing the damage and hurting them herself. And then there was that horrible thing she made Fayt do to Roger, as well as the order she issued said teen to take down Lucien's own father…

Had she really lost sight of what was truly important? Or were there greater things to protect?

She didn't know anymore.

" _Nel! Where's that opening?! We need you_ _ **now**_ _!"_

Cliff's voice sounded in her ear and she snapped out of her rumination. The coordinates. Right.

"Give me a second!"

She resumed control of the _Thunder Arrow_ and readjusted her aim.

* * *

"Take that, and that, and that!"

Taken out of context, Cliff would have appeared quite mad pounding away at a tree with his gauntlets. Then again, this was no ordinary tree: the damned thing had a life of its own - literally - and he had lost count of the number of times it threw exploding fruit bombs at him and tried to stab him with its roots. When he had agreed to fight in this war, no one told him he had to deal with a moving forest as well.

Next to him, Fayt was having his fair share of trouble as he wrestled against the grapevines that had wrapped themselves around him and hoisted him into the air. However, the more he struggled, the tighter they coiled to the point he felt that they threatened to cut off his blood circulation. The vines bound his wrists mercilessly and he was steadily losing his grip on his sword, his fingers giving, the more they tightened. This was bad. He couldn't cut himself loose.

"A little help here..." he gasped, only to choke when a vine snaked around his throat and snapped fast.

Fayt struggled (more like twitched) pathetically in the monster's grasp. His breathing grew shallow and sharp; his eyes bulged; and his face turned blue as a gradual numbness descended on his body. Meanwhile, Cliff's eyes darted about the battlefield, frantically looking for some sort of weapon. He found an axe lying someway off and grabbed it firmly between his hands. No way was he going to let the kid die of suffocation from a stupid, overgrown plant.

"Hold still!"

"Like I can do anything else?!"

The axe sliced through the vines and Fayt crashed painfully onto the ground. The tree let out a shrill screech, flailing what was left of its vines in the air. Cliff helped Fayt to his feet and they faced the thing, ready to take it down for good…

" _Guys, get down!"_

Nel's warning was really cutting it close, but better late than never. They scrambled and threw themselves behind a nearby boulder. The blast from the _Thunder Arrow_ struck the tree dead-on and the explosion sent the oncoming Glyphian soldiers and Sanmite mages flying. Not even waiting to see if the attack had fully cleared the enemy wave, Fayt and Cliff rushed forward and braved through the sand and dust, through the numerous bodies and corpses, scaling the hill, lungs burning and heart ablaze.

"Did we make it?" said Fayt, coughing.

Suddenly, a great gust of wind blew past; and when the dust finally cleared and the earth settled, Fayt and Cliff found themselves the audience of a smirking Duke Vox and General Malroy, armed, dangerous, and ready to draw first blood.

 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for part 2 of this epic clash of nations!  
> Anyway, here's my attempt at an epic battle the game never had. In the meantime, please leave a comment and/or kudos if you like my story. A little support goes a long way and motivates me to keep writing and produce faster updates. University life is tough and full of deadlines, but if I know my story has touched readers in some way, all the more I'll keep updating at a more consistent rate. Thanks guys and hope you enjoyed reading this chapter! Until next time!


	15. The Fall of Aquor (part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This second part took me a long time and after writing up to a certain point, I realised it's much too long to compress everything into a single chapter. So, I've further divided this second part into two. That makes it 3 parts in total for this war. Please bear with me and I hope you don't grow weary from the battles. I dislike rushing through my stories and I try to deliver as much detail as I can with each and every scene. Enjoy!

"Well, well... If it isn't the engineers from Greeton," Vox scoffed and gave their tired, battered appearances a critical eye. The sight was almost pathetic. "It seems Aquaria has sunk to a whole new low. Sending mere handymen to fight their war – _Hah!_ I'll make them pay for this insult."

Next to him, Malroy snickered, his golden eyes gleaming with malice as he looked Fayt over from top to toe. So, this was the strange, blue-haired boy he heard so much about. Hardly a cause for concern. He got off his stead, whistled, and the dire wolf bounded off. The boy didn't look so tough. Heck, he reckoned he could do with a handicap.

"Kehehe! _This_ is the guy who defeated _Albel?_ " He shot Vox a condescending grin. "Perhaps _I_ was the one who overestimated Airyglyph's military competency."

"Hold your tongue, humanoid! I don't know what this boy did, but I assure you the late Captain of the Black Brigade is not one to go down so easily."

"Heh, whatever."

"So what if I did?" Fayt interrupted their little conversation with more bite than he initially intended. "When I'm through with you, you can ask that twisted bastard yourself – _in hell!"_

A dark scowl crossed Vox's features. Though he was well aware that Albel was far from dead, he didn't appreciate the swordsman's guts.

"Your overconfidence annoys me, boy _,"_ he sneered, lips pulled into a grimace. "For your impudence, I'll slaughter you where you stand. You Greentoners and that wretched Aquarian whore have interfered in my plans for the last time!"

Without warning, Vox's dragon swooped down and knocked the unsuspecting swordsman off his feet. The warlord's cruel laughter rang through the air as Fayt quickly struggled to regain footing, sword held at ready, only to feel the dragon dig its claws into the back of his shirt, lift him off the ground, and effortlessly fling him aside like a rag doll. Fortunately for him, he had just missed the jagged rocks along the hillside. Fayt rolled across the earth, coughing up dirt; his cheeks smeared with grime and fresh cuts marred his handsome features and forearms. That fall left him completely winded, and almost crushed his ribs.

Forcing himself onto his elbows, Fayt raised his head, squinted against the sun's light, and directed his weary gaze up at his smirking opponent. The man was too far up and out of reach, and he seriously doubted the Glyphian would be stupid enough to linger at ground level for him to land a convenient strike. Damn, with that air dragon at Vox's disposal, this fight wasn't fair at all.

"Fayt!" Cliff tried to rush to his charge's side, but was stopped by a blur of brown-and-blue that came between him and Fayt and Vox's confrontation.

The humanoid in question let loose a light chuckle, cocky and scornful, and Cliff immediately knew that it was the kind of laughter that would continue to irritate and grate on his nerves for a long, long time. He wanted to wipe that arrogant smirk off the feline's stupid face. Suddenly, that overgrown chipmunk of Fayt's boyfriend didn't seem so bad anymore.

"Uh-uh! Where do you think you're going, big guy?" Malroy shook his finger and tsked. "Your opponent's me." His tongue moved up to lick the tip of one of his sharp fangs; a long tail swished lazily from side to side; his feet apart. Overall, his body language screamed indolence, as if he viewed the Klausian as nothing more than an eyesore not even worth his time and energy.

"Move over, fur ball," he growled with his fists raised, "or I won't play nice."

" _Haaaa?_ " Malroy drawled, expression bored. He dug his ear with a claw.

Cliff seethed, "Alright, pussycat, you asked for it!"

Like a trigger, Malroy's expression changed drastically, his laid-back personality taking a 180 degrees turn on the bad side. He hissed, bared his fangs, and flexed his large, razor-sharp claws. The fur on his tail, ears, and even his hair bristled madly. _No one_ called him a 'pussycat' and lived to spread the joke.

In a blink of an eye the Fellpool disappeared, only to reappear right in front of Cliff to deliver a series of slashes and kicks at all of his body's vital points. Malroy moved so fast that Cliff only realized he had actually taken a significant amount of damage after the cuts burst open and blood trickled down his skin. He was too stunned to react, to feel any pain, and wasn't ready to guard against Malroy, who leaped into the air to deliver a violent smack down to the back of his head. Cliff pitched forward and landed on his hands and knees, eyes wide and breaths coming out in harsh gasps as his body fought to recover from the searing pain and shock.

The humanoid moved in hard and fast. This was a guy who knew _exactly_ where to hit that would bring about the _most_ damage. He felt like he was bleeding both outside and in after that single (or was it more than one?) assault. It left him momentarily paralyzed, though he wasn't sure if it was because of his surprise or that the Fellpool had literally struck a nerve or two.

Malroy snickered as he watched the blonde struggle to stand. He licked the back of his paw like a cat toying with its prey. Heh, easy peasy. And here he thought Aquaria was going to give him a challenge.

Unrelenting, Cliff raised his fists once more and shifted into an offensive, gaze intense and calculating. This battle placed him at an obvious, hilarious disadvantage. His strength and endurance were useless in this fight, while speed and agility was key – two things Fayt had going for him, which he didn't. Cliff cursed beneath his breath. So, this was Vox and Malroy's plan all along: split them up and pit their own weaknesses against themselves.

Golden eyes glinted in excitement as Malroy too shifted into an attack position. He had to admire the blonde's determination after that prelude to his skills. Most people's confidence would have taken a nosedive, yet there the burly man was, as sure and unshakable as he first started... But that was all about to change.

"Heh, let's see if those big muscles of yours can keep up." He flexed his claws, beckoning Cliff with a laugh. "Fair warning: that was only 10% of my power."

"Fair warning," the Klausian countered with a smirk of his own, "so was mine."

* * *

The horses slowed to a stop at the outskirts of Arias. Roger, Dion and Ameena took in the macabre spectacle with growing horror and inconceivable, perverse fascination. Hundreds of corpses were piled up in heaps across the battlefield – an arm there, some legs blown off here – the stench of blood and mutilation so overwhelming it penetrated their senses and shot straight to their brains, nauseating, pungent, and suffocating. Aire Hills was awash in a flood of crimson bloom. It was ironic: the faces of allies and enemies alike, which had once been divided through race, principle and beliefs, became seemingly indistinguishable from one another, equal and void of divergence in death. It was the ultimate equalizer, but it took a whole war to realize this and therein lay the greatest tragedy of all.

Roger choked, his heightened senses making everything a hundred times worse for him. The smell was everywhere: in the air, up his nose, on his tongue, biting his eyes, seeped through every fiber of his clothes, crawled all over his skin... Even when he closed his eyes and held his breath for 10 seconds, he could still smell death, suffering, and immeasurable despair. It burned a hole in his memory. He nearly threw up.

Ameena shuddered and looked away. "I can't believe… all these people… Wait, Roger, what are you doing?!"

"Gotta find my pops and Mister Malroy," he replied upon dismounting his ride. Roger's face was deathly pale, his eyes bulging and voice wispy with every shuddering breath. "Gotta find 'em. Clear up this whole misunderstandin'."

Another blast shook the earth as he gazed out across the battle site, repeating his words like a mantra. "Gotta find 'em… gotta find 'em..."

He wouldn't stop; the same words tirelessly recycled. Roger was clearly traumatized. Just a little boy with a big heart. Ameena feared for his fragile state.

"And if something bad happens to you? I won't let you die for nothing!" She grabbed Roger by the straps of his overalls and hoisted him back on the horse. "Come on, I'm taking you."

"Are you _both_ out of your minds?!" Dion whirled around on his horse to give them the critical eye. "Riding out there in that crossfire – _it's suicide!_ "

"Well, if we don't do anything, it will be!" Ameena screamed back.

Dion felt a headache coming on. "This is crazy."

"Maybe."

" _You're_ crazy."

"Most likely."

"And that's why I need ya here, Dion," Roger interrupted, turning fiery eyes on him, the frightened child forced back into the depths of his quivering heart. He had to be strong for the mistakes he made.

"Ya invented 'em. You're the only one who knows the _Thunder Arrow_ inside out," he continued with his reasoning, surprising himself with his patience and initiative. "Ya need ta stop Nel and her unit from causin' more destruction, and help cover us while we're out there. Can ya do that fer me?"

He regarded Dion with resolve. It was the kind of face that didn't suit a kid. It aged him, hacked away at his innocence, but it was also empowering and it reminded Dion that war and peace was just as shapeless and colorless until one injected meaning and purpose into these values. It was up to them to define and carve the way forward.

His hand fell over his heart in salute. "Yes sir!"

At Roger's nod of gratitude, Dion tugged at his horse's reins and nudged it aside...

"Dion, wait!"

A slender arm shot out and grabbed his wrist, forcing him back around to face Ameena's frantic gaze. But it wasn't fear in those eyes; only a desperation to be heard, to be seen, and to be remembered beyond the present moment, the past, and the tiny spaces between time itself. Everything he knew, all the knowledge he had accumulated up till this point no longer held any significance. Only this blank canvas of infinite possibilities. This sacred space. It was warm. It was solace. It was purpose. And it was a pair of soft lips pressed against his own, as tender and sweet as flower petals. He felt like he could drown in that nostalgic scent forever.

Ameena broke the kiss and pulled away, long eyelashes fluttering open to gaze up shyly, lovingly at him. For what felt like an eternity, they simply stared at each other, statue still like a pair of transient lovers frozen in time. Dion's heart pounded like a drum. All these years he had dreamed of kissing his childhood friend; wondered how her lips would feel against his; if she would be scared or return his affection and curiosity. He had never expected her to be the one to initiate any gesture of romance; yet he treasured it and held it fast against his heart. He wouldn't want it any other way.

"Dion, I just... I just wanted to say that I... I..."

The chief researcher shook his head and placed his fingers beneath her chin, lifting her gaze. When she tried to speak again, he placed a finger upon her lips.

"Save it for when you return, Ameena, so we'll both have something to live for."

Ameena bowed her head and he placed a chaste kiss upon her brow.

"Why do I get the feeling I'll never see you again?" she said in a broken whisper.

Dion removed the _Maiden of Irisa_ charm from his front pocket and pushed it into her hands. "I'll need this back – their eyes met – can you keep it safe for me until then?"

Holding back her tears, Ameena sniffed and nodded her head. Dion leaned forward to capture her lips in a gentle kiss, sealing his faith and trust in her with an unspoken vow.

"We'll be together soon, this I promise you."

"I'll come back, Dion," she chimed with equal fervor. "I'll come home. You have my word."

With a strike of the reins and the thundering of hooves later, Dion watched his love and Roger bravely ride out into battle. He watched them disappear behind Aquarian units before he turned away and rode off in the direction of artillery. It seemed he had an important message to deliver to Aquaria's High Commander. He only hoped she was as open to reason as she was in designing wartime strategies.

* * *

"Hah, what's the matter, boy? Where's that courage now?"

Vox's air dragon parted its jaws and shot out a powerful jet of fire. Fayt dodged it by rolling out of the way, but its tail lashed out and struck him across the front. He landed a few paces off, skidding and rolling across the dirt. His head spun and he choked from the dust and impact. Distantly, he could hear Cliff and Malroy's own battle and by the sound of it, the Klausian didn't appear to be faring too good either. His mind raced. How the hell were they going to beat these two?

"Get up."

When Fayt didn't respond, Vox swooped down on his dragon and knocked him aside once again. The teen landed with an unceremonious 'thud'. Vox let out a loud scoff. This was pathetic. And here he thought he'd be in for a challenge. So much for the rumored combat prowess of these Greeton scum.

" _Get up_ ," he repeated, the sadistic grin across his face a clear indication that he was enjoying his opponent's pain a little too much.

Groaning, the young swordsman pushed himself onto his elbows. Fayt's lungs screamed for air, his breathing fast and shallow. His stamina and quick speed accounted for nothing if he couldn't so much as land a critical hit on his airborne opponent, which led to his next problem: how the _hell_ was he even going to _touch_ Vox?! If it were Cliff, he would probably use his impressive strength and launch himself into the air in a single bound. Then again, if that had been the case, he himself would have easily done away with Malroy – the Fellpool was fast, but not fast enough to out-maneuver him. In a way, it unsettled him how their opponents knew their weaknesses and outplayed them without their awareness.

"I grow tired of your stalling, boy," said Airyglyph's General as he commanded his next strike. "Looks like _you'll_ be the one paying Albel a visit – _Now burn!"_

Blue light and a flurry of symbols danced around Fayt's form. He opened his mouth to call forth his attack, but Vox's air dragon beat him to it as it reeled its head and shot out a burning stream. The fire consumed the teen in seconds; Vox didn't even get to hear him scream, but it mattered not. Now to take care of that other Greeton eyesore... Hm? As soon as the blaze died down, Vox found himself staring at a towering glass structure, something which definitely hadn't been there before. His eyes darted about in alarm. Where did this _thing_ come from, and why did _glass_ have solid earth at its base? Earth and glass… Also, wasn't this the spot his dragon burned that pathetic fool to the ground? Then where was the brat now?

"Looking for me, Vox?"

Footsteps rushed towards him. Unfortunately, when the Captain finally uncovered the blue-haired swordsman's true plan, he was a second too slow. Fayt dashed up the glass structure fashioned from his previous _Earth Glaive_ casting, sword at ready and smirk as wide as a Cheshire cat's grin. Vox openly gaped at his opponent. He couldn't believe it – this amateur had actually timed everything right down to his own dragon's attack! His eyes darted towards the edge of the glass structure, his panic peaking once he realized it arched high above the ground just enough to...

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion from that point. Fayt leaped off the glass edge straight towards the airborne Vox. His eyes shone with triumph, his confident grin a perfect contrast to the Glyphian's wide-eyed panic. There wasn't enough time for him to ready his defense against the sudden assault; and so, all the warlord could do was mutter a soft, "How?"

But Fayt heard him just fine.

"Just a little college science – _Yah!"_

The blade struck Vox across his chest, hard enough to deal some damage to the guy's armor, but not deep enough to penetrate steel – though that wasn't Fayt's intention. The force of the blow knocked the warlord right off his dragon and with the added weight of the swordsman on top of him, the pair hurtled towards the ground with Fayt flipping and pinning his opponent beneath him in midair.

They crashed into the rocky hillside, Vox predictably out cold from the 20-metres drop after having absorbed most of the impact. Groaning and coughing, Fayt pushed aside the Glyphian's lifeless body and struggled to his feet. Damn, talk about a close call. Even now he still couldn't believe he managed to pull off a crazy stunt like that. _Thank you_ 166,440 hours of non-stop gaming. And Sophia said they'd only turn him into a brainless muscleman – well, she had no idea how wrong she was.

"Cliff!" he yelled, grimacing as he stumbled forward. Honestly, he didn't give a damn about his injured leg anymore (that and the thing had gone numb after prolonged abuse). Every fibre of his being screamed at him to keep fighting, and that was what he planned to do.

Unfortunately, said blonde was too busy fending off his feline adversary to register anything else. Malroy was crazy-fast, his claws doing a significant amount of damage to his gauntlets and armor. Cliff couldn't even move out of his defensive position to land a single hit. The more he blocked, the further he found himself cornered by the Sanmite General, who seemed to take a great pleasure in his squirming. What was worse, the bugger didn't even look tired! He suspected it had something to do with those huge, razor-sharp steel claws of his – they appeared to maximize his speed and distance.

_Need to break them._

Suddenly, Malroy disappeared, resulting in the blonde's punch hitting thin air. Shit, not again... How was it physically possible for _anyone_ to move so fast? Just then, he felt something whip against the skin of his cheek.

_Huh? Wind?_

"What's the matter, big guy? Afraid of a _little pussycat?!_ "

Malroy struck hard and sent Cliff crashing against a rocky wall. The jagged surface dug into the cuts across his back. The pain was most definitely real, just like how he knew he hadn't been imagining things earlier – he _did_ feel a sudden gust of wind before the Fellpool appeared.

Maybe... Malroy wasn't moving fast at all. What if he had the ability to _hide_ in the wind? Stay here long enough, and stuff like that sounded less crazy by the minute. Also, hadn't Clair mentioned something about the humanoids possessing incredible power of their own? Well, whatever it was, if he didn't think of something soon, _the rest_ of him would end up as minced meat.

Malroy flashed a huge grin, fangs and all. He flexed his claws and snickered, "End of the line, moron. Nowhere to run."

Cliff forced his gaze up and a small trail of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth past his chin. Still, he managed a wry smirk. Nowhere else for this punk to attack but his front. Time to charge up the boys. Electricity surged through his gauntlets. Malroy shot towards him, claws outstretched and fangs bared, and that was when he struck out.

"Electric fists!"

Cliff really let the guy have it and was pleased that the first two punches hit home, right in the humanoid's gut and jaw. Unfortunately, there was a briefest delay between each set of punches, so Malroy was able to wiggle his way out of the rest, matching the rest of Cliff's hits blow for blow. Heh, a commendable effort; but still too slow. Dismay was quickly showing on the blonde's face. Time to put the big moron out of his misery.

"Sayonara, stupid! Bloody hurri – _Ack!"_

A leg shot out and slammed painfully into Malroy's side. There was a sickening crack as the force of the kick sent him flying and rolling across the earth. He hacked out a mouthful of dirt and a couple of hairballs, only to groan in agony as his hand rushed to his ribs. It didn't take a genius to figure out some bones were broken. He coughed again, this time a handful of blood. Someone had seen through his wind strike? It couldn't have been the big guy, so who in the world…?

As if on cue, a pair of clunky, blue-armored boots appeared before his vision and he felt his blood run cold. No… if this kid was here, that meant that Vox… Malroy's eyes darted to the side and gasped at the sight of said Captain sprawled unconscious across the dirt, his dragon out of sight.

"You know, if you talked less, you wouldn't have given your position away," Fayt commented with a cynical quirk of his lips as he stood between a recovering Cliff and the fallen humanoid. "Now…" his grip on his sword tightened, "how about we make this a fair fight?"

Malroy lay frozen in fear. His chest hurt; he couldn't move; couldn't breathe. So, this really was the boy who defeated Albel the Wicked – someone who matched the sword master's powers of observation, speed and strength. He gasped when felt the tip of a blade press against his throat, forcing his chin up.

"Call off the war," Fayt warned, "or more of your men are going to die, including you."

"Heh, call off the war? That's a nice sentiment, soldier-boy." Malroy's laughter was void of humor as he looked Fayt in the eye, his own golden gaze swimming in untold pain. "But it's not like we have a choice."

_"_ What?" Fayt's grip on his sword visibly shook from Malroy's confession. No choice? What did he mean by that?

"Kid, look out!"

Fayt immediately brought his sword over his head to block a pair of battle-axes aimed for his neck. Gah, saved by Cliff. A little more and he'd be done for. Guess he'd consider it a debt repaid. Mustering his strength and grounding his feet, he shoved his blade against the axes and pushed their wielder away with a grunt. Then he quickly shifted into an offense, readjusted his grip, and was just about to initiate a series of slashes of his own, when a sudden harsh glare caught his eye and made him stumble.

Argh, too bright – but wait a minute, that helmet... No, it couldn't be... Hadn't it been lost at the Kirlsa Training Facility? But then who else could it belong to? His heart raced, his greatest fear threatening to manifest into one horrid reality.

"R-Roger...?"

But when all the white spots across his vision finally disappeared, he realized he had been mistaken. Instead of a young Menodix boy, a man stood protectively in front of his fallen comrade, his scowl dark and dangerous, hands gripping the seasoned handles of his weapons in fierce determination. His bushy tail was ruffled and tense like the rest of his body; his furry ears peaked from beneath his helmet like Roger's always did, but the similarities ended there. The Menodix's fur was duller; he was clearly older; though short in stature he was taller than Roger; the helmet actually fit him perfectly; and he wore a monocle over his good eye. He seemed impressionable, was definitely no pushover and undoubtedly a veteran in weaponry, but unlike Malroy, there was an obvious lack of mirth about him.

Fayt's stance faltered and he lowered his sword. Why did he have a bad feeling about this?

"Hey, you seeing what I'm seeing?" Cliff whispered into his ear.

"Yeah... though this isn't exactly the 'meet the parents' session I had in mind," he muttered in return.

"Hah, say hello to papa-in-law!"

Fayt sighed and shook his head. "Not now, Cliff..."

"A-Aznor... don't... you mustn't," Malroy warned desperately as he struggled to stand. "These men are dangerous. Sir, I won't allow anything to happen to you. I... I can still fight."

The Menodix held him back and said sagely, "I appreciate your concern, Malroy, but I must defend what's important to me. You are my minister, my fellow republican, my friend, and my brother. We will fight together like we've always done."

"How sentimental..."

Four pairs of eyes turned to regard the source of that sudden intrusion. Vox rose from his previous position on the ground and approached the group, dusting himself off. He had a nasty scowl plastered across his face, one that effectively silenced all those present and sent a jolt of trepidation down Fayt's spine. Damn, he was hoping that crash would have knocked him out for good or at the very least, much longer. Was there no beating this guy?!

Vox wrapped his fingers around his sword's hilt in a threatening gesture. "But I do hope you're not forgetting our little agreement, humanoids."

Malroy eyed the Glyphian General nervously, while Aznor maintained his position in front of his friend. His good eye narrowed into a glare.

"Don't worry, Vox. I have no intention of calling off the war."

"But Mr. Huxley –"

_"HEAR THIS, BOY."_

Aznor whirled around to glare daggers at Fayt, who involuntarily took a step back in surprise. How _dare_ this impudent punk address him so informally?! And how did he even know his last name? Nevertheless, he wasn't obliged to concede to the requests of these Greetoners. As far as he was concerned, this war was none of their business and they ought to avoid poking their noses into places they didn't belong.

"That's _Sir_ Huxley to you. I believe I needn't remind you that I'm _very important_ –"

As Aznor prattled on, Fayt and Cliff's expressions turned sour.

"Why does it sound like I heard this before?"

"Uh… because it's Roger's dad?" Fayt added helpfully.

"– so look alive, boys!" Aznor smirked, twirling his axes as his eyes honed in on the duo. "Because when the _three_ of us are done with you, I'd pity the sad chap who'd have to pick up all the pieces."

Fayt's eyes shot open in dread, his complexion going visibly pale. Wait a second... _Three?!_ They had to fight the Prime Minister too?! This wasn't in the job description...

"Starting with _you!"_ Aznor turned on Fayt, the latter a perfect rendition of a deer caught in headlights. He wagged a finger at the young swordsman and tsked, "Don't worry, we all return to the earth some day..." He charged forward and plunged the blades of his axes into the ground. " _Cry of the forest!"_

The ground split open and a violent tremor rocked the open plain. Two deep long trenches appeared from where Aznor struck the earth and great roots and vines burst from the depths. They headed straight for Fayt, who could only gape at the approaching tsunami of flora. This was new. He raised his sword in defense, but even he doubted his capacity to take on the humanoid's attack on his own, much less avoid getting completely swept away. It was both frightening and unnerving that a single person could command Nature like that, _without_ the aid of either symbology or runology for that matter. Where did the source of their power come from?

Aznor Huxley… he wondered how powerful Roger's father truly was.

Fayt dodged the roots that lashed out at him, hacking away at whatever he could. When more emerged from the ground to coil around his limbs, he managed to quickly slip away by jumping on the roots, maneuvering his way to the top; after all, if he didn't want to get buried alive or get stabbed to death by razor sharp thorns, the only way was up. The roots continuously shifted beneath his feet.

When he looked down, he was seized by panic at the sight of Cliff squaring-off against Vox and Malroy. This was bad. They'd been split up again and it was obvious the men had every intention of taking down the Klausian first. And judging by Cliff's own sluggish movements, it would take a miracle for them to hold out against the combined forces of Aznor, Malroy, and Vox for much longer. They were painfully, hilariously, out-numbered.

"Realized a little too late, did you?" said Aznor with a deep chuckle, perched on a particularly sturdy root. "Unfortunately, I won't accept your surrender – not yours, not your friend's, and not Aquaria's."

Fayt gritted his teeth as he fought for balance. "Mr. Huxley, please… why are you doing this?"

Aznor closed his eyes and simply shook his head. Why did this boy still insist on acting so familiar with him? He was the enemy… right?

"I don't have to answer you. Goodbye, engineer from Greeton."

The thorny roots rose high above Aznor's head and surged towards Fayt with a vengeance. The latter ignited his blade with his symbology, but it was no use: though the flames burned away whatever they touched, more vegetation appeared in its place. Wherever he turned, more roots descended upon him and every swing of his sword made him feel like he was burning and further compromising himself instead.

Through the communicator, he could hear Cliff's yells and agonized grunts, seemingly echoing about him like a dawning horror. And still he kept going, fighting against an opponent he could no longer see or reach. His world grew darker, his situation hopeless. He could neither get to Cliff nor help himself. Was this… the end?

" _Dodge this!"_

Suddenly, there was a deafening punch – two for that matter – followed shortly by a loud 'thud' and an enraged yell. He heard Malroy shrieking and Aznor barking a few orders, before a tense silence settled across the air. Huh, did Cliff manage to hold his ground or something?

_"Sit tight, Fayt. This won't take long."_

There it was again. That voice.

Just then, there was a loud ' _crack'_ as the roots surrounding him ruptured and fell apart. Sunlight flooded in and he winced from the sudden glare. A slender hand reached out to him, coupled with its lovely owner's kind smile.

"Need a hand?"

"Mirage!" As usual, the woman had impeccable timing. Boy, was he glad to see her. He took her hand and she hoisted him out of his thorny prison. "But how did you know?"

"I heard Cliff screaming," she said with a giggle, tapping her earpiece for emphasis. Something told him Cliff wouldn't appreciate that smarmy smile on her face. "Luckily, he forgot to turn off his communicator. I figured you guys could use some help."

"Bah, I wasn't screaming."

Speak of the devil.

"Whatever you say, Cliff."

He shook his head, chagrined. "Now you're just patronizing me."

"Well then, now that you two are done resting," she interrupted, punching a fist into an open palm, a rare glint in her eyes, "how about we make this a fair fight?"

Vox unsheathed his sword, Malroy flexed his claws, and Aznor held his axes at ready. It seemed this mysterious woman's arrival had sparked a fresh vigor and rekindled the two men's fighting spirits. However, the outcome of this fight didn't really concern Aznor in the slightest. As long as they stalled long enough for their army to intercept and destroy Aquaria's weapon, Airyglyph and Sanmite would still win this war. Like he predicted, it was only a matter of time.

"Alright," the Menodix conceded, running his thumb along the blade of his axe, "but I assure you, miss, numbers won't change a thing."

He'd show these meddling outsiders the difference in their strengths soon enough.

* * *

Nel dodged a slew of arrows and pressed her back against the side of _The Thunder Arrow._ They pierced the weapon's wooden support, but failed to damage its core. The Aquarian peered over the edge and cursed at the group enemy troops fast-approaching. _Damn,_ had they breached Aquarian defenses already? Were there no more soldiers left to fortify their base camp and artillery? She couldn't allow them to get any closer.

"40 degrees up; 12 degrees left! Fire when ready..." She raised her arm, waited for the right moment... then brought it down. " _Now!"_

_"STOP!"_

The runologists ceased in their operation. Nel whirled around so fast, she could have broken her neck. Anger clouded her features from that unwanted interruption, only to have that frown dissipate at the very sight of the Queen's chief researcher coming at her fast. Her complexion turned pale and a million questions raced through her head. What in Apris' name – He _shouldn't_ even _be here!_ They'd been through this a dozen times.

"Dion?" Then her confusion reverted to anger. "What's the meaning of this?! You're not trained in military combat! You dare disobey my orders?"

Dion slowed to a stop and dismounted his horse. "Lady Nel, I beg of you, stop this entire operation! I won't stand for Aquaria harming more lives!"

Nel shot him a wary stare, stance defensive. Her hand slowly went to the dagger by her side.

"What's gotten into you, Dion? Weren't you the one who spearheaded this project in the first place? Don't tell me you've changed sides..."

"The only side I'm on is Aquor's," he answered as he indicated at the battlefield. "Open your eyes, Lady Nel: does this look like the peace you talked about? This land is _dripping_ with blood – it's gushing red, and if we don't put an end to this right now, there will be nothing left!"

Nel turned away and approached the nearest _Thunder Arrow_ , touching its surface. Her fingers clenched and her body shook.

"There's only one end to this," she spoke in a voice that sounded both aged and bitter, "and I'll proceed as planned, with or without your cooperation."

Her words hit home and before he knew it, he blurted the first thing that came to his mind.

"Roger and Ameena are out there!"

Dion's statement struck Nel like a bolt of lightning. She turned around sharply, eyes wide and fear steadily creeping into her features. What did he say? Roger... Roger was out there, in the center of all that violence, all that danger?

"The Prime Minister's involved in this war," Dion continued urgently, if only to delay the _Thunder Arrows'_ next firing sequence. "Roger's the only one who can negotiate a ceasefire with his father. The Sanmite Republic were coerced!"

_Coerced?_

"If you fire those weapons, you might end up killing them before they reach Sir Huxley! Would you be able to live with yourself if you do?!"

Nel was in a daze. Kill... Roger...? No, no she couldn't... They grew up together. He was family and with both her father and Clair gone, he was all she had left... And the Sanmite Republic had been coerced? But with what? By whom? _Ah!_ And it all finally started to make sense: Albel's assassination attempt and mission to abduct Roger; said man's glaring absence in the current conflict; the sudden break in Sanmite's isolation policy; the peace talk that backfired eight months ago; the attempted murder of Aznor Huxley; the man who filled King Arzei's head with thoughts of war; who destroyed Her Majesty's happiness and stepped on her dreams; the one man who started it all and the current Commander of Airyglyph's entire military...

_Vox._

The faces of her father, Clair, Tynave, Farleen, as well as the decimated city of Arias flashed through her mind. Melt; Roger; Aznor; herself; and now all three nations... having them turn on each other... dirty their hands for a senseless cause... Nel's fingers clenched, her nails digging painfully into the skin of her palms. How many more lives would that bastard seek to destroy before he's satisfied? He'd pay – oh, she _prayed_ for divine retribution, if not by her hands then Fayt or Cliff's.

But first thing's first: she needed to guarantee Roger's safety at all costs. Gaitt – no, _Aquor's_ – entire future was riding on this vital reunion. She had to make it count.

Nel tapped the communicator at her ear. "Fayt, I need you to rendezvous with Roger and Ameena. Fayt, can you hear me? _Fayt?"_

No response. Damn, his connection was dead. Alright, new plan.

"Disengage artillery! Fall in!" She commanded her runologists, motioning them forward and into battle stations. She unsheathed her daggers and held them at ready, poised to strike at any given moment. "Engage!"

Dion gasped, "Lady Nel, what are you..." Then when realization hit him, he started to protest, "You can't possibly mean to – that is – with only runology?!"

"... Dion."

Her sudden forwardness surprised him and he visibly tensed. "Y-Yes, m'am?"

The mysterious smirk on Aquaria's High Commander's lips was enough to chase away any lingering fears and doubts. Nel knew what she was doing. He could see it in her eyes and read it from her body. He just needed to trust her.

"Roger's out there, correct?" At Dion's frantic nod, she returned her gaze to the approaching enemy unit. The promise of battle set her eyes ablaze. "Then we'll just have to hold our ground here as long as possible, until he flips the chessboard on Vox's head!"

* * *

"Crescent locus!"

Mirage delivered a powerful vertical kick, which tossed Malroy into the air. She smirked through her fatigue; finally, she was getting somewhere with this stubborn feline. However, before she could deliver the final strike to bury the Defense Minister into the dirt, he regained momentum and twisted himself in mid-air, before utilizing his last bout of strength to summon the wind around him. His ribs were still screaming from that stupid swordsman's previous attack, which really placed him at a disadvantage against his new opponent. If this fight dragged on any longer, he'd be on the losing end against this crazy blonde powerhouse for sure, possibly even dead.

Time for his grand finale.

"Keh, I hope you're ready for this, sweetheart – _Bloody Hurricane!"_

In a blink of an eye, Malroy disappeared and a powerful whirlwind burst forth and circled Mirage, growing increasingly narrower and trapping her within. She tried to punch her way out, but it was too risky – the current was so strong and cut like hundreds of knives, that the mere act of placing her hand just a few inches away made her feel like her skin was going to burn off. Yet, her wind prison became even narrower and tighter, shredding the surface material of her jacket. The air grew thinner by the second until eventually, the Klausian was on her knees, hands flying to her throat and gasping for breath. Mirage's face turned pale and a deep panic settled in. This wasn't a whirlwind; it was a deadly vacuum!

'I need to get out of this,' she thought in mounting panic, 'I need to interrupt his attack.'

But that very idea proved a challenge, if not impossible. After all, how could she hit something she couldn't even see? Malroy was moving faster than the naked eye could catch and if she missed, her hand could very well fly off her wrist.

Mirage coughed, doubling over. Her vision was steadily turning black.

_Can't… breathe…_

" _Cliff… help…"_

That was the last thing he heard before Mirage's line went dead. Cliff swore colorfully and turned away from his opponent. To hell with Vox; he wasn't going to let his partner die on him, not if he could help it – _nrgh!_ He felt the edge of a blade press against his throat from behind and halted in his tracks. Argh, that persistent sonofabitch...

"And just where do you think you're going, fool? I was under the impression you Greeton scum desired a fair fight," the captain sneered as he applied more pressure on the blonde's neck. "Or was I wrong?"

Cliff chuckled in spite of his position. "Oh yeah? Then how's _this_ for fair? – _URYAH!"_

He smashed the back of his head against Vox's and the latter stumbled backwards. Using that moment's distraction, Cliff took off in the direction of the whirlwind. However, he had barely reached the halfway mark when Vox dashed in front of him and drew his sword so fast, it nearly... burned his head clean off?! Cliff jerked back out of both shock and fright. What the hell – that guy's sword had _fire!_ And here he thought the Glyphian would be a mere pushover without his trusty dragon.

Vox didn't waste any time though and attacked him relentlessly, each slash and spin precise, planned, and perfectly executed that it would give Fayt a run for his money. Huh, not bad for a geezer. But he was done running.

With a yell, Cliff charged towards Vox, fists pulled back and ready to strike, but the warlord anticipated his plan and raised his sword to deal a quick blow to the reckless blonde. Humph, amateur. Even a child would think twice before – _wait, where did he...?!_

And before Vox could fully process the fact that Cliff had disappeared, the Klausian immediately emerged from his blind spot below and delivered a jawbreaking uppercut to his chin. Cliff quickly followed up with a knee to the gut and a triple kick to launch Vox into the air. But the Glyphian recovered miraculously fast and performed a midair flip, and with a swing of his blazing sword, struck the Klausian across the chest. The flames burned a hole through his top and the skin beneath, making him wince, momentarily throwing him off focus. And that was all Vox needed to turn things around.

"I'll teach you to mess with a Dragon Knight's wrath… _Fire Storm!_ "

Flames raced up the sword's length and erupted in a crescendo of heat and air. Like a fiery cyclone, the attack rushed towards Cliff and engulfed him completely. The last thing he remembered was bringing his arms up to shield himself from the blaze. An agonized scream tore from his throat before everything turned a blinding white.

* * *

Now, Fayt wasn't heartless, nor was he deaf to his friends' distress, but Aznor really didn't leave him with any other option save stay alive himself. Just because the Prime Minister was Roger's dad, it didn't mean he needed to go easy on him, and unfortunately for Fayt, he realized that last part a tad bit too late. It became obvious from the moment the Menodix swung his axes and landed his first flesh wound that he wasn't merely a figurehead and all talk. Aznor was a warrior and undoubtedly a force to be reckoned with; and he didn't particularly enjoy admitting it, but he couldn't believe a vertically-challenged Menodix was currently besting him in both agility and endurance. He could definitely see where 12-year-old Roger had picked up his skills and technique from, even though he still lacked Aznor's physical strength and years of combat experience.

'Hm, but imagine the sort of man he'd grow up to be... Dammit, Fayt, now's _so_ not the time to admire your boyfriend!'

Aznor rushed him and Fayt reacted quickly by bringing his sword up to block both hits from the humanoid's twin axes. However, he failed to account for the combined force of Aznor's swing and their close proximity. There was a loud 'chink' and the area where the axes met his blade and it cracked from the pressure. _Shit._ He quickly moved as soon as Aznor made to follow up with a third strike. The blade of one of his axes struck the hillside and embedded itself into hard rock. Fayt's eyes flashed. _Now's my chance._

He swung a leg out and planned to deliver a downwards kick to break the Menodix's arm as he rushed to dislodge his weapon, but was surprised when Aznor pulled a fake and evaded his kick altogether. He turned to swing his other axe at Fayt, who jumped to avoid it by catching the handle of the other axe embedded in the wall instead. Then, swinging forward, he planted a hard kick to Aznor's chest with both legs. The blow sent Aznor flying and Fayt closed the distance between them at lightning speed to stab him in the shoulder. The broken blade pierced through the armor's weak spot and the tip snapped off to lodge deep into flesh and muscle. Aznor screamed and clutched his wound as he fell to his knees, disoriented from the pain.

Fayt landed on his feet, panting harshly as he wiped away the beads of sweat on his brow with the back of his hand. Geez, that really took a lot out of him. The Prime Minister could sure put up a tough fight. Fortunately, as their fight had revealed, Aznor didn't have his son's healing abilities, which proved quite a relief...

Or so he thought.

Aznor stumbled to his feet and with a grimace, yanked the broken blade out of his shoulder. A light green aura surrounded him, and tender saplings and leaves sprung from the earth's cracks. They curled around and over his wound; and out from the buds blossomed a ring of devil's nettle. The flowering herb worked its magic, stemming the blood flow and closing the wound in seconds.

Fayt's knees almost gave out beneath him. After all that trouble to wound Aznor, slow him down; it was utterly dismaying to know his efforts were all for naught. Here he was struggling to maintain composure and consciousness, while his opponent just received a free ticket to a perfect win and a full recovery.

"Sorry to disappoint you, sonny," said Azor with a deep chuckle, false sympathy clear across his face, "but I hope you now see the difference between your skill and mine."

With a cursory flick of his wrist, thick vines shot out, binding Fayt's hands behind his back and around his ankles. The teen crashed onto the ground and fought to free himself, but his struggles were futile – the enchanted vines didn't give in the slightest.

"Still, you put up a good fight. I give you that. All three of you."

There was a pregnant pause. Fayt's heart filled with dread. That sounded rather ominous. What did Aznor mean by that?

Suddenly, something landed in front him, but with him sprawled uselessly across the ground and line of vision limited, it was hard to see. It sounded like two bodies, but he had to be sure. With some difficulty, Fayt craned his neck to the side and immediately felt his blood run cold when he realized he was looking directly into the dull, defeated blue eyes of that of Cliff and Mirage's. Cuts, burns, and bruises marred their skin; their clothes torn and singed at various places. They had been forced on their knees, hands behind their heads, entirely compromised. Behind them stood Vox and Malroy respectively, the two generals holding them at claw and sword point. Fayt released a shuddering breath. He felt like he was watching a terrible nightmare – one that he was steadily becoming a part of with no chance of ever waking up.

"Cliff! Mirage – _Argh!"_ Aznor forced Fayt's face into the dirt with his boot. Roots emerged from the earth and tied him down at his waist and legs, securing him tight and sealing all options of escape for good.

Fayt fought and screamed against his bindings, cursing the three fighters to kingdom come and back with his every breath, but his muffled words went unheard from the gravel in his mouth. This wasn't happening. Him lying in defeat at the feet of his captors; his diminishing self-worth as a warrior; the consequences of his failure... It was all a bad dream. It had to be. This couldn't be over yet.

His self-denial came to an abrupt end however, when he felt something cold and sharp press against the back of his neck. And when his brain finally processed the implications, he began to thrash about like a fish out of water. But it was no good: Aznor still had his foot behind his head and his bindings felt tighter than ever. Fayt felt tears prick at his eyes. No... _No!_ He didn't want to die. Not right now; not like this... His dad needed him. Sophia was still missing. He had just turned 19. There was so much more to live for; he had a whole life ahead of him. Was his life going to end here on a faraway planet that no one had even the slightest clue he was on?

Fayt felt his world spin. Desperation seized him and like a rubber band that had been stretched too tight, he finally snapped. A searing sensation seized him, like he was continuously being stabbed by red-hot pokers from all angles. It was agonizing, and he would have screamed if it didn't hurt so much to even think of doing so. Fire coursed through his system, burning away all feeling and turning indescribable pain into a terrifying numbness. His vision started to recede into a blinding whiteness; he broke into a cold sweat.

"You let him go! He's only a boy!" Mirage shouted to the side, only to have Vox bash her mercilessly at the back of her head.

"Shut up, wench," he seethed as his dark scowl shifted into a sadistic grin, "unless you wish to go first?"

" _Please_! Can't you see something's seriously wrong with him?" She nodded at the spazzing teen on the ground.

Vox rolled his eyes to the heavens. "And what would it matter? He'd be put out of his misery soon."

Cliff's jaw clenched at his newfound helplessness. It was so disturbing to hear Mirage like this, to lose her cool and break completely under enemy pressure. Then again, moments like this didn't exactly constitute as normal. Their mission was on the brink of collapse: Fayt was losing his grip on his powers – powers he didn't even know he possessed, much less control. By now, Fayt was reduced to a shuddering, suffering wreck, torn between his current state and the self that he was not; and between the kid and Mirage's cries, Cliff didn't know which was worse.

"Hurry up, Aznor," said Malroy, growing increasingly disturbed over Fayt's condition. His ears were pressed against his scalp; his tail tucked between his legs. "The quicker we deal with these Greentoners, the faster their suffering ends... And you'll see your boy again."

But why did something about this whole situation feel so wrong?

Aznor's grip around his axe handle trembled. Was this... was this really what he had agreed to? He wasn't above murder, but if Roger knew, if he saw this side of him, would his son ever look at him the same way again?

'There are no murderers in war, only soldiers.' But even he couldn't console himself with that thought.

Fayt released a guttural scream and jerked violently in his bindings. If his wrists weren't bound he would've clawed at his face. It hurt – God it hurt so much he wanted to just die. His mind was barely present anymore. Passing out from the pain would have been a blessing.

_What's... happening to me...?_

Using both Fayt and Mirage's screams as a distraction, Cliff discretely activated his communicator.

"Nel," he hissed, "they're going to kill Fayt. We need you. _I_ need you."

Silence.

"Nel, please!" The redhead was his only salvation, however her vague response completely crushed what little hope he had left.

_"... I'm sorry, I can't. My hands are tied."_

If he wasn't trying to be discrete he would have yelled at her. What the hell did she mean by that anyway? Didn't she have those weapons on her side? If Nel didn't come, they were all going to die very violent, very bloody deaths.

Fayt's screaming died down all of a sudden. A faint blue light radiated from his form, but the fact that he failed to register it at all indicated that his mind was already too far-gone. The more Cliff and Mirage watched him, the more nervous they grew. This was bad: with the threat of death looming precariously over him, Fayt was fully submitting to the stress. This wasn't him anymore.

The mysterious blue light gathered at the center of Fayt's forehead, but with his face turned away, the spectacle went unnoticed by Aznor. Truthfully, the swordsman's sudden silence unnerved the Menodix; but it was late to turn back now. He raised his axe and brought it down on Fayt's neck...

 

_To be continued..._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who have stuck around until this point, thank you. Writing this particular wartime battle has really worn me out, but I shall persevere. There's really not much for me to say at the moment, except to please comment, bookmark and leave kudos if you like what you're reading so far. Your support really goes a long way. Well, until next time!


	16. The Fall of Aquor (final)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter for this story. Please read the author's note at the end of this fanfic for more details after reading the chapter (to avoid spoilers). Now, back to where we left Fayt and co.!

"Pops, no!"

A metal whip shot out and coiled around Aznor's axe, tugging it out of his hands before the blade could deal the final blow. Disbelief etched across his face and with a shaky breath, Aznor turned hesitant eyes to the source of that voice.

"R-Roger...?" he breathed, wondering if his good eye was playing tricks on him, and frightened if that were true. Please don't let this be a dream.

As it seemed, Aznor wasn't the only one surprised: on the ground, Fayt groaned and blinked rapidly. All the pain and searing heat had disappeared, and like a dream he was thrust back into the realm of consciousness. The very idea of Roger's presence sent warning bells ringing in his head. Under normal circumstances, the face of the little Menodix would fill his heart with warmth and happiness, but now wasn't one of those times. He made a vow to shield Roger from the horrors of war. Had he failed to do as such on top of his own humiliating defeat?

"Pops, please stop!"

Roger jumped off Ameena's horse and raced towards the two men, his face flushed and tears threatening to spill from his eyes. What he'd just witnessed; what almost happened to Fayt... If he arrived a second later... He shuddered just thinking about it.

"It's me, pops. I'm here, I'm ok."

He wrapped his arms around his father, who returned the embrace with more fervor than he expected.

"Roger... Oh, Roger, my son," said Aznor in a half-sob, half-whisper, "thank heavens. Thank heavens you're alright." His boy... He never thought he'd ever see his boy again.

The roots that bound Fayt uncoiled and slowly slinked away. Aznor reached up to stroke his son's unruly brown hair. His boy was alive. He was alive and safe and that was all that mattered.

Roger pulled back to gaze up at his father; recognition flashed across his big brown eyes. The older man's reaction only served to confirm his suspicions. So, it _was_ true: Airyglyph had used him to blackmail his people.

"Pops," he spoke up, "I don't know what's gotten into ya, but ya _gotta_ put an end ta this war! This isn't the Sanmite I know – he tugged on his father's tunic desperately – This isn't the pops I know!"

Roger's words and the tears in his eyes made Aznor flinch. Disappointment. Had he really lost himself that much in his quest to get his boy back? Suddenly, his armor felt bigger and heavier than he remembered.

"No. No, it isn't." As he spoke, sorrow and regret flashed across his good eye. He stuttered, "Son, I... I..."

"Roger, what're you doing here?!" Fayt demanded once he found his voice. "I thought… I thought I left you at Aquois!" Then, full-blown panic set in and he pretty much exploded.

"This place isn't safe! You shouldn't even _be here!_ What the hell were you thinking?! You could've been killed, and everything I've done up to this point wouldn't have meant a thing! If anything were to happen to you, then I… I…"

However, Roger's death glare was enough to silence him. Roger _never_ looked at him that way before – it was as hurtful as it was unnerving. Just seeing his boyfriend's rage; the glimmers of hatred in his eyes… Fayt couldn't go on anymore; the words simply refused to come out.

Aznor however, didn't need to hear them to understand the swordsman's pain. This young man's fear, concern and urgency – they all stemmed from his resolve to protect Roger; and it quickly became clear to him that he had misjudged this young fighter from the very beginning. This boy Fayt – whoever he was, it was transparently clear he cared deeply for Roger; Aznor could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. Sanmite had been fighting on the wrong side this whole time, and not only did he almost murder his son's guardian in cold blood, but he had been played a fool as well.

" _Vox!"_ Aznor whirled around to regard said captain, face twisted in rage. "You monster… these Greentoners and Aquaria were really – he shook his head vehemently – _you tricked me!_ "

The Dragon Brigade Captain simply laughed at the Menodix's foolishness. He supposed it didn't matter now. He got what he wanted; time to drop the act.

"And how easy it was," he replied with a cruel smirk, "you humanoids and Aquarians are all alike – hopelessly loyal to the core. How am I to blame for your naivety? – he shook his head – No, you broke your own terms, you broke that trust with Aquaria all on your own."

"You bastard! I'm gonna claw your eyes out!" Malroy shrieked and lunged at him, but Aznor held him back before the hot-blooded Fellpool got himself killed.

"I got a better idea," he replied as he and his son shared a meaningful stare. "I'm calling off the Aquaria invasion."

He retrieved a horn from his side and was just about to blow into it, when a leg shot out and kicked the instrument out of his grip. The shell horn landed on the ground and Vox crushed it beneath his boot, grinding it to dust.

"My apologies, _old friend,"_ he spat as he loomed dangerously over both father and son, "but I can't have you do that. Not when I'm so close to becoming King of this land."

By now, Malroy, Fayt, Cliff and Mirage had moved to stand protectively around the Prime Minister and Roger, each and everyone of them throwing hateful scowls at Vox. So, the truth finally came out: Vox was really nothing more than a despicable tyrant who initiated conflict for personal gain and glory. He never once harbored Airyglyph's best interests at heart.

"But Arzei's your nephew," said Aznor, desperately confused and grasping at straws. "You would betray your own flesh and blood for the throne?"

"Hah! The moment that pathetic excuse of a king fell for that bride of Apris, was the very day I knew he was unfit to rule Airyglyph _._ "

Fayt, Cliff and Mirage gave each other suspicious stares. 'Bride of Apris'? Who the heck was Vox talking about? And why didn't Roger, Malroy and the Prime Minister look as lost as they felt? Did the humanoids know something that they didn't? Talk about a mouthful. Somehow, Fayt had a feeling there was more to this planet's political drama than he initially thought.

"Humph, no matter," Vox waved the matter off like it was something trivial. "I don't need Sanmite's full cooperation anyway." He indicated at the battle taking place at the foot of the hill.

"After all, it seems like my army's doing a good job holding that Aquarian Commander and her unit, down. Soon, those weapons would be at my disposal. Gaitt will be mine. It's only a matter of time – he glanced at a defeated Aznor – isn't that right, Prime Minister?"

Aznor shook from rage, his ears pressed flat against his skull. He was utterly humiliated. This cruel, scheming serpent… All his people… Played him like a fool...

"Vox... _you arrogant–_ "

But before he could utter another word, a violent tremor rocked the earth, bringing all of them to their knees. Ameena screamed as her horse whined and fought to maintain balance. Aznor and Malroy quickly moved to shield Roger. Cliff and Mirage held their ground. Fayt's eyes scanned his surroundings frantically. An earthquake? But he remembered reading that Elicoor II had close to zero tectonic activity. What in the world was going on?

And then just as suddenly, the tremors ceased and a loud blast sounded through the skies. A glaring red light ruptured like a star and came hurtling down towards them, and before Vox could even look up and process the origins of that light, the beam struck him and exploded into a blinding white light. The impact sent rocks and trees into the air and threw the rest of the gang backwards and in all directions. They screamed.

Then, a moment's pause.

The burning heat dissipated.

The bright light faded to nothingness.

The rumbling stopped.

And everything went deathly still.

* * *

 

Screams. They rang in his ears in deafening echoes.

Then, the sound of cannons, spells, and lasers.

It was a world of disarray, like someone had thrown in a bunch of objects that didn't belong in a blender and pressed the start button. It was painful to hear, but it felt even worse not to get away from it.

Fayt cracked his eyes open and pushed himself to his feet with a groan. The ground still felt like it was moving beneath him and his vision tipped violently. He gave his head a good, hard shake. What the hell was that all about?

Slowly, cautiously, he took in the apocalyptic scene around him, and that was when he noticed Cliff and Mirage standing not too far off, their eyes trained to the sky. Confused, he approached them, only to pause when he heard Mirage utter the words, "Looks like they found us, Cliff." It was more of a statement to herself than anything, but it effectively aroused Fayt's curiosity and suspicion.

"They? Who's 'they'?" When she didn't respond, he pressed her further. "… Mirage?"

Suddenly, the familiar sound of an engine penetrated his ears. His eyes bulged and he felt his mind go blank. There was no mistaking it: definitely the sound of a spacecraft. With his dad's lab on Moonbase, he'd flown around in them ever since he could remember to _not_ recognize the telltale noise of its boosters and rockets. But by the sound of it, this one was no ordinary spacecraft – it was a genuine, Class S battleship. So why was it here? Had Cliff and Mirage been expecting company? Was it Quark and their so-called leader? If so, why didn't they tell him earlier?

However, a second more was all it took for Fayt to realize it wasn't Quark at all and instead, a giant Vendeeni battleship emerged from the clouds. Fayt gulped and took a nervous step back. He had a feeling he knew who the 'they' Mirage had been referring to, now. So, what the hell was going on? What business did the Vendeeni have here? Fayt's gaze honed in on the ship, it's blinking red lights appearing disturbingly like…

_Lasers._

" **RUN!"**

The Vendeeni opened fire and nothing was spared. Soldiers, runologists, and all magical creatures scrambled for cover. The situation as Fayt saw it, was hopeless and unsalvageable. Under the assault from an advanced, intergalactic technological superpower, no Elicoorian stood a ghost of a chance against those lasers. Even if one managed to evade getting hit, another series of deadly lasers would follow in quick succession. Plus, the resulting explosion from post-attack air pressure dealt just as much destruction. Nothing would be safe within a five-meter radius of each strike... but he seriously doubted anyone from this underdeveloped planet knew that beforehand.

Fayt bounded over a few rocks and nearly tripped over his own feet as he avoided the shots. _Aire Hills_ was a barren wasteland - it left him wide open against enemy fire. Forget the war; forget his confusion; all logic told him to flee to Peterny. However, it was only after he made it past center-field when he stopped to realise something frightfully crucial.

Where the heck was Roger?

* * *

 

"Ameena! Ameena where are ya?!" Roger's eyes darted about frantically and was relieved to that she was unharmed. The girl had sought shelter under a nearby cliff, but god-knows how long that'll hold up against the strange red lights.

"Roger, what's going on?" She breathed fearfully, her wide emerald gaze sweeping across the field. Then, she realised something and her voice pitched in distress. "Wait, where's your father and Minister Malroy?!"

"Huh?!"

Roger turned wide, horrified eyes to the blast site. Darn it, where _were_ they? He could've sworn his pops had been close by but a moment ago. Vox however, was dead; nothing remained of the late Dragon Brigade Captain save a giant black circle of ash in the ground, not even bone. It was frightening – never in his life had he seen a weapon so terrifying as these bright red falling stars.

Roger ran out into the open and called for his pops at the top of his voice. Ameena hollered after him, but he was already too far away to hear her over the ensuing chaos.

"Pops, where are ya?! Answer me! _Pops!"_

He felt like crying; reminders of being a real man couldn't convince him otherwise. Why was this happening? _What_ was happening? He was so frightened, so confused… But that wasn't going to stop him. He had to find his pops and Mr. Malroy. He'd come too far to let everything he fought for die now. Thankfully, he got a response.

"Roger, over here!"

He found them behind a group of boulders. One had fallen over and trapped Malroy's tail beneath it and judging by the limp appendage, it was probably broken. Aznor was cradling the Fellpool in his arms; blood trickled down the side of Malroy's lips as every cough brought forth more. One of his hands clutched desperately at his broken ribs; his eyes were misty and his breathing shallow. No matter how hard Aznor tried, he couldn't get the rock to budge; but there was no way in hell he was going to leave his friend behind, not after everything Malroy had done and sacrificed for him.

"What… are you sitting around f-for… idiot?" Malroy wheezed with great difficulty, managing a tired smile. He squeezed Aznor's shoulder weakly.

"S-Sir... Take your s-son and… g-g-go…"

"If you think for one moment I'm going to abandon my Defense Minister, you're an even bigger idiot than I thought!"

Roger forced down a whine and pulled at his hair in panic. Now he understood what his mama meant when she compared Lucien and himself to said guy's dad and his own. 'Trust those two to be stubborn till the day they died,' she said. Well, they didn't have _time_ to be stubborn – with that strange metal vehicle in the sky raining lasers on them, it was hard to see any viable escape options which didn't include abandoning Malroy. How the heck was he going to move this large rock and get his pops and Lucien's dad to safety?

_Think, Roger. Think, think, think…_

"Roger, what in Apris are you doing?!" Ameena finally caught up to him on horseback, shrieking at the top of her voice.

"It's not safe here, and this poor girl's spooked silly! – she patted the mare's neck – We have to go now!"

_Bingo._

"Ameena, quick, gimme the reins!" Roger reached up to her, all fired up. "Don't ask – just hurry!"

"H-Huh? Ok..."

Thoroughly confused but doing as instructed, Ameena tossed over the leather straps. Roger worked quickly, tying one end around the horse's saddle and the other around the boulder. Once the knots were secure, he drew back and raised his hand to catch Ameena's attention.

"Right, get ready ta pull."

* * *

 

"Fayt, get back here!"

Cliff and Mirage chased after said teen, who had split from them a while ago to seek out his lover amidst the debris and mad rush of bodies. In other words, heading in the _opposite direction_ of everyone else, of which was supposedly deemed _safe._ Sure, they knew Fayt was reckless – they'd been stuck with him long enough to get acquainted with his bullshit – but this latest move of his was bordering on sheer stupidity. Once again, when it came to Roger, Fayt was acting on his emotions instead of listening to his brain.

"Dammit, Fayt!"

"Fayt, we have to leave now!"

"Not until I find Roger," he yelled over his shoulder, only to cry out in surprise when one of the shots fired narrowly missed him and blew a hole in the pathway mere inches in front of him.

Fayt coughed from the black smog; his eyes stung, but he had to keep going. Roger needed him; he could sense it. If there was one thing he valued more than his own life, it was the little humanoid boy with his – god forbid – propensity for trouble; and he'd be damned if he allowed Roger to die on him. He couldn't live with that. He couldn't live with the possibility of never seeing Roger's bright, mischievous smiles and thrilling laughter again. There was nothing more to lose if he lost all of that.

'Please be safe… huh?'

He stopped short when Cliff appeared in front of him, an unpleasant scowl on his face. Naturally, Fayt returned that stare with one of his own.

"Out of the way, Cliff," he warned, tone dark and threatening, "or I'll deal with you myself."

Mirage snuck up behind him, voice deceptively sweet. "Well, we can't have that now, can we?"

Fayt whirled around, alarmed. "Mirage, what are you – _Urgh!"_

That hard punch to his stomach made bright spots explode behind Fayt's eyes, completely knocking the wind out of him. The swordsman slumped against her arm in a boneless heap, gasping and coughing. Cliff received him from his partner and slung Fayt effortlessly over his shoulder.

"Sorry, kid, but we can't let the Vendeeni have you. Leader's orders."

They broke into a run in the direction of the old site of Arias, all the while deaf to Fayt's silent screams.

* * *

 

"Everyone to Aquois! Abandon all posts!"

All Aquarian, Glyphian and Sanmite troops alike rushed in said direction, anywhere to escape the terrifying red beams from the heavens above. It was a stampede: people and creatures pushed and shoved against each other in their desperate flight for survival; and those who fell had to struggle back up on their own or die trying. Nel's eyes scanned the scene, seeking out a certain blonde head amidst the crowd, her heart filling with dread when she failed to spot him. The last time they spoke, he had pleaded for a form of assistance that she could not comply with. Did something bad happen to him? Was it her fault?

"Let's move, move, move!" She turned her attention to Dion who stood next to her. "That includes you, Dion. I won't repeat myself."

"But, Lady Nel, what about –"

She cut him off before he could go on further.

"Dion, as Chief Researcher, you're a highly valued member of society and indispensable to Her Majesty. I _won't_ let you die here."

"But you're –"

"Needed here," she finished firmly, conviction shining in her violet eyes. "As Commander of this operation, it is my sworn duty to ensure the safety of my soldiers and subordinates." She flashed him a small smile. "Your job here is done, Dion. You are relieved. "

When Dion looked like he was about to protest yet again, she grabbed him by the arm and forcefully dragged him to his horse.

"Now, go back to Aquois – that's an order," she said, but was taken by surprise when the younger male simply shot her a wry smile and shook his head.

"Sorry, Lady Nel, but _your_ life is far more important than any other's here," Dion replied, voice rough. "Besides, I don't take orders from an Aquarian."

She blinked at him, confused, a frown upon her brow. "What are you…?"

And then Nel felt herself being lifted none too graciously off the ground and thrown onto Dion's horse. No time for regrets now. He gave its behind a hard smack and the stallion gave a shrill neigh as it took off in fright with a screaming Nel in tow.

"Goddammit, Dion – no! _DION!"_

Her curses and desperate cries receded into the crowd. Dion watched her go until she was nothing more than a tiny speck of red. He pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. He had a job to do.

"You there," he grabbed and instructed a passing Black Brigade soldier, "evacuate Peterny. Get some help if need be. Round up everyone you can and guide them to the palace."

"S-Sir!"

The irony almost made him laugh – it seemed destruction really was pivotal to bringing about an armistice. How trite.

Just then, a bright red projectile zipped past and hit one of the _Thunder Arrows_ , blowing it to smithereens. Dion threw himself behind the remaining weapon to avoid the blast and flying debris, heart pounding. That's right, he needed to transport the last _Thunder Arrow_ to safety. Plus, there were still many soldiers unaccounted for. He already made it this far; no turning back now.

But he suddenly sensed an oncoming presence behind him.

Turning around, he spotted a single beam of light heading towards him. It was too fast and he could do nothing to avoid it in time. And almost immediately, he felt an immeasurable sadness settle over his heart. Ameena's beautiful smile flashed through his mind; he could still taste the sweetness of her lips against his; remembered all the promises he wished he could keep...

It wasn't fair. He wanted to hold her in his arms and never let go – at least for one last time. Spend their summers running through the woods, feet in the grass, like they used to during their childhood. Go down on one knee, her hand in his. Start a family with her. Kiss her. _Love her..._

In the end, Ameena wouldn't get to say those three sacred words to him. Words that he had waited all his life to hear but never would. It was supposed to be a promise; she told him to wait for her return. But at the very least, he did manage to see her again after all these years, and maybe that itself was more than enough.

"Ameena... Forgive me."

He heard her sweet voice call out to him one last time, her thrilling laughter, and knew he had lived a life with no regrets. And so, despite his tears, Dion allowed himself one final smile, closed his eyes, and knew no more.

* * *

 

"Are you alright, Mister Malroy?"

The Fellpool managed a small smile and nodded. Malroy had just been helped onto the horse with Aznor seated behind him and supporting him upright. His tail hung limply at his side. It was still painful to breathe, but he'd manage.

"Thanks, sweetheart. You've done Sanmite a great deal of kindness."

Ameena simply shook her head.

"I'm just helping out a good friend, sir." She quickly turned to Roger and lifted him into her arms. "Ok, now you."

Aznor reached out for him. "Take my hand, son."

Unfortunately, they were unable to make the final exchange. One of the beams shot the ground just by the horses' legs, throwing up a great deal of rock and dirt. It startled the poor beast, who suddenly rose to its hind legs and took off with a shrill neigh. Aznor scrambled to take his son's hand, only to feel his heart sink when those small fingers slipped away forever.

"Roger! No! _Nooooo!_ "

"Pops!"

But it was too late. The stallion galloped across the war torn battlefield, leaving both Roger and Ameena behind to fend for themselves. Though at the very least, Roger could take comfort in the knowledge that his pops and Lucien's dad were safe... Or had a high chance of survival.

Ameena stood frozen in place, trembling in fright. Without a horse, without _anything_ to help them cross this treacherous field, there was no way they could make it. Her chest grew tight; coughs racked her frame; her hands turned cold and clammy as she clenched the _Maiden of Irisa_ in her hand.

"R-Roger... W-What're we going to do? I'm scared..."

"We'll be fine!"

Suddenly, a red beam zipped down and the boulder next to them exploded. Ameena screamed as she raised her arms to shield her head from the flying stone bits. Roger grabbed her hand and quickly pulled her aside. Then, he raised his voice and sought her gaze urgently.

"We'll be fine, Ameena," he repeated, giving her hand a firm squeeze, "trust me – I'll protect ya!"

Around them, the terrifying red lights continued to fall like stars. Roger's eyes honed in on the old site of Arias in the distance, at the crowd that were desperately fleeing in the direction of the Royal City, and knew that no matter the odds they had to stay alive. As hopeless as it appeared, there still existed but a slim chance and he was willing to take it. So, without anything to lose, he tightened his grip around Ameena's hand and tugged her forward.

"Get ready ta run."

"H-Huh?! But I –"

"Go!"

They sprinted across the barren plains, past the scattered debris and bodies of the fallen. Dead or alive, they didn't know. All that ran through Roger's mind was the desperation to survive; to ensure Ameena's safety; to reunite with his pops... This crazy, unidentifiable flying vehicle's origins could wait. His lungs burned from the lack of oxygen and smoke in the air; his eyes were watery and stung from the rising ashes, but relief flooded him when he spied the old site of Arias up ahead, just under a kilometer away, and it fueled his resolve.

_Just a lil further... Almost there..._

Until he felt a sudden weight tug down on his arm. Ameena fell to her knees and coughed violently; a hand flew to her mouth, but it did little to muffle the severity of her illness. The coughs grew worse and they couldn't stop; tears rushed to her eyes and her chest burned. It was just like that night in Peterny. She couldn't breathe.

* * *

 

Far across the battlefield along the outskirts of the late Arias, Fayt managed to kick Cliff in the face and wrestled out of his hold. He stumbled from the fall, but recovered quickly and turned to yell in the blonde's face, though not before punching him first. It was a surprisingly harsh blow, even for Cliff, who stumbled backwards slightly. Fayt however, didn't seem to care.

"What the hell's going on?! What do the Vendeeni want with _me?!_ I thought you said they were after my dad!"

Mirage made a grab for his wrist when he started flailing. It was the first time he ever saw her this upset, her usually pleasant mask bearing a few cracks. Not even that run-in with the Vendeeni post-Hyda IV escape left her in the least bit fazed. Why was this any different?

"Fayt, listen to me, now's not a good - "

" _Oh really?_ I couldn't tell!"

She almost twisted his wrist. "I said, _listen._ "

"Give it a rest, Mirage."

Her mouth parted in mid-speech, surprised by her partner's interruption, but reluctantly conceded, though the frown on her face remained. Fayt tugged his arm back, cradling the sore appendage against his chest. Cliff rubbed his jaw and with a sigh, raised his hands in a sign of peace. However, the gesture made him look more like he was trying to appease a vicious, wild animal, which was precisely what Fayt appeared to resemble at this point.

"Now take it easy, Fayt..."

Said teen flinched away from the two Klausians, the glare on his face murderous. He knew it; ever since he first met the blonde on Hyda IV, ever since he had forcefully entered his life, Cliff had been nothing but trouble. And the subsequent venom in his words was quick to convey that.

"I _never_ should have trusted you."

Fayt turned and sprinted towards Roger and Ameena's location. Cliff swore colorfully and desperately gave chase. Not again.

"Kid, get back here! _Kid!"_

But a blast sailed straight towards him and he managed to roll out of the way in time. He brought his arm up to wipe the dust and sand from his eyes, but when he looked up, Fayt was nowhere to be found.

* * *

 

Another blast, another close call.

Fayt made a desperate beeline towards where Roger and Ameena were crouched. They were mere silhouettes from where he was, but he didn't give a damn about distance.

The pain in his body disappeared; adrenaline coursed through his veins and he could hear the deafening pounding of his blood in his ears. Like an athlete at his last stretch, Fayt pushed himself, ignoring the consequences. There wasn't even any time to wonder about the Vendeeni's unprecedented arrival. All he saw, all that he could think about was getting to Roger; to make sure he was _safe._ He had made a vow, and he planned to uphold it till his dying breath, come what may.

" _Roger!"_ he cried at the top of his voice as he pushed through the smoke and debris, while dodging Vendeeni fire.

But no matter how much Fayt screamed, the humanoid child didn't hear him. _He couldn't._ There was too much going on, too much at stake. His dearest friend was dying, and he felt so helpless.

"A-Ameena!" Roger pulled the brunette's hand away from her mouth and gasped. On her palm... Trickling down her lips... So much blood...

"No..." He scrambled to place his hands upon her chest, gazing up at her with frightened tears brimming in his own eyes. "I... I can fix this! You're gonna live through this, ya hear me?!"

The flower maiden smiled through her tears and shook her head. There was so many things she longed to tell him; thank him; that she lived the best days of her life upon knowing this strange little boy from Surferio. She wanted to say it all... But it hurt too much.

"Roger..." She held onto his little hands and gently pushed them away. Roger felt something rough press into his palm, looked down, and felt his heart stop.

_The Maiden of Irisa._

"I won't leave ya, Ameena!" He broke down sobbing, clinging onto her dress, frantically urging her forward. "Dion's waitin' fer ya! He'd want that back! Please, ya _gotta_ keep going! We're almost there! Please..."

_Please don't leave me._

Ameena's eyes shone with tears, but there was no sadness in her gaze, only love and an eternal gratitude. She stroked his cheek tenderly; their eyes met, and she whispered in finality, " _Live."_

Then, with the last of her strength, she pushed Roger away just as the blast hit.

* * *

 

It happened in a flash: the force from the strike sent the Menodix flying. The back of his head collided against a rock and he slumped forward, unconscious. And that was how Fayt found them: two best friends lying apart, motionless and unbreathing. For a moment, he could do nothing but stare on in shock, his mind drawing a blank, before cruel reality caught up to him and he stumbled forward before falling to his knees.

With shaky hands he reached out to his young lover, tracing his fingers across once rosy cheeks, unresponsive, only to release a broken sob and tug the boy against him in a desperate embrace. Roger still felt warm in his arms, but his body had gone completely limp, and Fayt cried openly as he begged and pleaded to the gods above, for his sweet love to wake up. If he hadn't agreed to this war… If he had only arrived sooner...

"Roger, please wake up! Roger, please... _Please..."_

He must have muttered that word about a thousand times because that was all he knew. But when silence was all that greeted him, not even a quiet gasp of breath, hot angry tears fell from his face and he threw back his head in a broken scream. It was unfair, so unfair; and it killed him more knowing that the Menodix's last thought had been one of hatred towards him.

Fayt's cries and pain carried loud across _Aire Hills._ The weight of Roger's lifeless body in his arms rivaled that of the failure he felt in his heart. At the end of the day, he couldn't protect anybody – not even the one he loved most.

_Unforgivable._

His gaze honed in on the giant Vendeeni battleship in the sky. The nightmare that he had strived so hard to prevent was now laid out before him in one cold, cruel, reality. He placed a tender kiss upon Roger's cheek, tasting the saltiness of his own tears on his lips. First, Hyda IV. Then, all of Aquor. And now, Roger. He couldn't stop shaking.

_Unforgivable!_

All the pain, unfairness, anger, and misery culminated into a blazing crescendo. Fayt's eyes shot open, pupils dilated with nothing but a pair of gold rings swimming in those hauntingly wide emerald orbs. Mysterious blue symbols darted and circled him in a maddening swirl before erupting in a brilliant burst of white light. It enveloped his entire form, birthing a pair of ethereal feathered wings that spread wide and lifted him high into the air.

In a swirl of white feathers and magic, he raised his arms and a ball of pure energy gathered in the center of his palms. And in a swift strike, it manifested into a deadly beam of light that shot straight to the sky and disintegrated the battleship. Not a single trace of its existence remained, not even dust.

The light faded. The symbols disappeared between the cracks of space and time. Fayt descended from the sky in a half-conscious state, unable to fully register what was happening. His wings vanished and all that remained were the soft whiteness of feathers dancing in the air.

 _The ship's gone…?_ But that observation did little to soothe the ache in his heart. It wouldn't bring _him_ back.

' _You're an angel, ya must be… Palmira sent me an angel…'_

"Roger..."

Fayt collapsed upon the cold, hard earth. Every inch of him felt tired… so tired… And that was when he heard a soft gasp to his side. Heart fluttering wildly in his chest, he spared a fleeting glance at the source of that voice. The last thing he saw were a pair of big, brown eyes staring at him fearfully, before his own vision began to cloud over. Memories and the present clashed like swords; whether he was confusing one for the other, he could no longer say.

' _One night, a fallen star landed on Airyglyph.'_

That sounded so near yet so distant. He could almost grasp it between his fingers, like rising steam as he sank further beneath the surface like driftwood after a storm.

' _What did you wish for?'_

' _Peace between Airyglyph and Aquaria, so we can be Aquor again.'_

There was nothing left. He could see nothing left. The war, the Vendeeni, all the fighting and countless of deaths – they haunted him beyond the veil of consciousness. And he knew that there was no one to blame but himself.

' _And I think... Palmira heard me.'_

_'How do you know that?'_

_'The stars told me so.'_

Broken promises. Shattered dreams.

' _They gave me my answer. They gave me ya, Fayt.'_

His fingers twitched and he reached out weakly. But they slipped from the light and fell away. In the end, he couldn't protect anyone.

' _One night, a fallen star landed on Airyglyph.'_

A hand, small and warm, tentatively touched his own. He saw a mouth open and close, but he didn't hear the response, satisfied with the familiar memory of a 12-year-old's cheeky laughter. Fayt's eyes fell shut, and he passed out with a smile on his face.

 

_End._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh... I killed Ameena and Dion. And Clair. And Tynave and Farleen. And Melt's mom... wow, that's a lot of deaths (though I didn't really care much for killing Vox and Shelby). I too wanted to kill myself when I wrote this chapter, I really did. Ameena has developed beautifully and remarkably in this story and it was so hard for me to let her go. Originally, I wanted to change her fate by keeping her alive, but I realise now why her death was so important and the outcome just wrote itself. Ameena and Roger's friendship is super special to me and I wanted to immortalize that.
> 
> Anyway, we've come to the end of "The Stars Told Me So". Thank you for reading and accompanying me on this long journey. After about 3 years hard at work on this story, I'm happy to announce that I'm finally done with book one. This adaptation of the original game was a personal challenge for me, as well as something I really wanted to do, so I'm quite satisfied with the result. True, it's not something people would typically jump on, but for those who have expressed appreciation and excitement over my fanfic and writing, thank you. I hope you enjoyed my personal spin on the game, characters, as well as the lore. I also hope that for you Fayt/Roger fans out there, I managed to put some smiles on your faces. It's rare to find any Fayt/Roger fanfics out there (believe me, I understand this pain and outrage better than anyone), so this is kind of my present to you and myself.
> 
> With that note, thank you once again for reading "The Stars Told Me So". Whether my writing brought you to tears, made you laugh, or smile, I hope you enjoyed yourselves :) If you like my story, have some burning comments/questions, or simply want to read more, please leave a review!


	17. Part Two Coming Soon

Hi everyone! 

Just a quick shout out that I’m not dead yet and no, I haven’t given up on this story. I love it way too much and worked way too hard on it to just see it slip away.

This story is actually part of a greater series, “The Stars Told Me So”, and this is only part one that has been completed. The inspiration is back and I’ll be working on the sequel (part two) soon. It’ll continue from where we left off with Fayt, the Vendeeni and the Aquor situation following the war and sudden attack on Elicoor II. For those of you who have left me kudos and comments, thank you and I hope you look forward to the rest of this epic AU! And for you new readers, welcome and please be patient with me. I tend to update quite sporadically for this particular series, mainly due to my schedule and the sheer bulk and thought put into retelling this game, with original elements.

See you soon! (Sooner than I hope...)


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